Perfect Timing
by DarkElements10
Summary: [REWRITE] Jake Hardin survived through a long string of bad luck and wants to prove that McFly's success wasn't a one-time thing. McFly wants to make their own luck in the drastically changing music industry. Together, they set out to make a name for themselves years after their first attempt to break into the American market. Maybe this time their luck has changed for the better.
1. Playing Catch

**Perfect Timing**

**By: Rhuben**

**Full Summary- **[RE-WRITE] Jake Hardin survived through a long string of bad luck and wants to prove that McFly's success wasn't a one-time thing. McFly wants to make their own luck in the drastically changing music industry that no longer relies heavily on CD sales but takes streaming and social media presence into account. Despite changing band directions, and personal stresses pulling them apart, Jake and McFly set out to make a name for themselves years after their first attempt to break into the American market. Maybe this time their luck has changed for the better.

* * *

**01: Playing Catch **

Jake Hardin quickly paced back and forth in the Masquerade Records bathroom, hoping the influx of air would speed dry the large coffee stain sitting over his stomach. With one hand, he held his shirt away from his burning skin, with the other, he fanned the wet spot with an empty, folded box of doughnuts.

"Come on, come on, come on," he repeated as he took his next lap around the bathroom. "Dry, god damn it!" Closing his eyes, he took in a breath of air through his nose and pushed it out of his mouth. _Ok. It's ok, Jake. It's just coffee. It's not the end of the world._

It may as well have been the start of it as far as he was concerned. He recognized the pattern instantly; one small slip and the rest of his day would have him looking around corners, walking with his back against the wall, and keeping his head on a swivel for any unsuspecting thing that could pop out at him. Or something he could trip over.

People always said that the world was a dangerous place. His Aunt Martha would drill it into his head. Untied shoelaces could mean broken teeth, or even worse, teeth through lips. Eating left over popcorn kernels could be a choking hazard. Taped over fraying wires of a USB cord could cause a phone explosion. There were small dangers in everyday life and at this point, he was sure he had encountered it all at least once.

Setting down the make-shift fan, he moved to stand in front of the sink. He looked like a mess. And today was not a day to be a mess. Ashley had even told him so that morning as he hopped around her place, trying to put on clothes and rush out the front door at the same time to attend a meeting he was late for. In his rush, he failed to notice the unsecured silicone lid he pulled over the rim of his coffee.

The men's bathroom door burst open and rapid clacking reached Jake's ears. Looking into the mirrors lining the walls, he watched a brunette rush past the urinals, and hunch over peering under each stall before joining him at the sinks. Tossing her hair over her, Katy turned towards Jake and held up a hanger with a crisply pressed white shirt.

"Lucky you," she said with a bright smile, "it's just your size."

"And let me guess," Jake said with an appreciative smile as he took the hanger, "it was the last one." Katy's smile widened. "I owe you big time, dude." He carefully removed his soiled shirt revealing his stained white tank top. "Seriously, you're saving my butt."

"Don't I always?" Katy asked, leaning back against the sink. Removing an elastic band from her wrist, she quickly pulled her hair up into a ponytail. It swished back and forth as she moved. "You wouldn't believe my luck though: class was cancelled, the buses were all on time—"

Jake looked up in shock, "That _never _happens."

"_I know_!" Katy agreed. She used both hands to indicate the shirt. "This shirt was on sale, and I made it in time for your meeting."

"I believe it all right," Jake replied, lifting his chin to finish buttoning up his shirt. Sighing, he shook out his shoulders and carefully cuffed the sleeves. "How do I look?" Katy turned around to face his reflection in the mirror. Giving two thumbs up, she smiled. "Really? That good?"

"Stop worrying." Katy tilted her head back in an exaggerated groan, the sound bouncing off every tile of the ceiling. "Here, look." She grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him on the cheek.

Jake quickly jumped away from her, but it was too late. He could already feel things changing. His shoulders settled back more, adjusting his posture. The large framed glasses perched on his nose no longer looked too big for his head, but trendy. Before, his navy-blue dirt stained sneakers were an eye sore in comparison to the rest of his outfit for the day but showed just how much work he was putting forward. It was as if an Instagram filter had been added to his life.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" Katy said to him. "Luck isn't some tangible thing. It's a feeling. It's confidence. It's what you make of it. It's – whoa!" She went to put her hand down on the counter and planted it right into a puddle of water. Her hand slipped off the edge and she went tumbling to the floor. Laughing, Jake reached for her, helping her back to her feet.

"It's a wonder you didn't crack your head open," he said. "Dude, we had an agreement."

Katy's upper lip curled. "_We can only trade our luck when situations call for it_," she recited, deepening her voice to mock his tone. "_Not just to get what we want_." Jabbing the air with her index finger, her eyes lit up. "This counts. This meeting is _huge_. I'd be crazy to be selfish and keep that luck away from you."

Nostrils flaring, Jake twisted his mouth to the side as he took in the site of his young cousin. She was in college now, no longer the frizzy haired young girl, but a sleek, confident young woman who was chasing her dreams studying fashion. He wasn't exactly sure when it had happened, but she had grown up and turned into a beautiful young lady. He was proud of who she was becoming; no longer the tomboy who was teased and bullied by kids in her class, but someone who had goals and dreams she wanted to achieve.

"What's the point of having this luck if you can't gift it to anyone? I mean, we wouldn't be in this position if Ashley didn't let you use it to have a great show with McFly years ago."

"We gave you that luck for a reason," Jake reminded her.

"So, you two could suck face," Katy asked, making a face. She shuddered mockingly. "I still have nightmares about that. Just so you know." She lifted a finger in the air. "_And_, I still think she's the lucky one. She's got a pretty great guy if I do say so myself."

Jake smiled. "Thanks, squirt."

The two of them settled into silence. Jake finished buttoning up his shirt and used his fingers to fix his hair again. Katy jumped up onto the counter and crossed her legs at the ankles, swinging them back and forth. Jake smiled at her reflection as she twisted around to watch his own.

"Hey, Jake?"

"What's up?"

"If my parents were alive, do you think we'd still be tight?"

Jake rolled his head on his neck and regarded his cousin. She had been so young when her parents had died. But him, she had known her whole life. He had nearly killed himself just trying to make it to the hospital in time for her birth. There was nothing on the Earth that would have stopped him from getting there.

"Of course!" he replied. "We're buds. Family. I'd go to all your soccer games, all your birthdays, make sure you had the coolest Christmas gifts. Nothing that's a choking hazard or anything dangerous like that."

"Oh, of course not."

"But you'd have the coolest bike around. With the handle-bar tassels, and the card clipped into the spokes to make it sound like a motorcycle." He put his hands to his chest. "Even I was jealous."

"Yeah, because you had to walk everywhere."

Jake pulled his mouth to the side. "Yeah, well, it costs money to put air in your tires," he said, "and it costs money to replace them after they get a flat, and it costs money to replace them after they've been stolen." He sighed. "Again." He planted his hands on the counter and bowed his head before he lifted it and gave a dazzling smile. "How do I look?"

"Like a million bucks," Katy said.

"If only," Jake laughed. "Now get down before you break the sink."

Katy stuck his tongue out at Jake but did as she was told. With a loud _crack_, she swayed backwards, wind milling her arms. Jake grabbed her wrist, pulling her forward and back on balance. Katy let out a loud gasp. "My _shoe_!" Lifting her foot, her broken heel flopped back and forth. "These were new."

"So, thanks again for the luck," Jake said quickly. He kissed her temple before stepping past her. "Sincerely. I'll be sure to give you the luck back ASAP."

Balancing on one foot, Katy gave him a pained expression. "Just make sure you have a great meeting," she said, "that's how you can make it up to me. I can't wait to hear all about it."

"Don't forget to tell Aunt Martha your plans for the day," Jake said as he pulled open the bathroom door. "If you need quiet, feel free to hang out at the penthouse. Ash says you can go over at any time. Wherever you go, let me know as soon as you get there, ok?"

"Penthouse, huh?" Katy asked. Her eyes flashed mischievously as she spun the keys around her finger. "You mean you and Ash haven't flooded this one yet?"

Jake rolled his eyes. "Byyye," he said wiggling his hand in a wave before holding it out towards her. "Give me some skin." Katy slapped her palm into his and they curled their fingers into a fist, bumping them together. "Have a good day."

"You too."

Stepping into the lobby of Masquerade Records (previously known as Downtown Masquerade Records), Jake grit his teeth as soon as he heard his name called. He turned and greeted Tiffany with a clenched-teeth smile. With his luck, it would actually come across as a genuine smile.

The lobby stretched from left to right, the linoleum and marble counter tops shining as if the building just had its grand opening. On the right side of the lobby a grand piano sat in the middle of a circle of cream white ottomans. To the left was a sitting area. The walls were covered with band photos and action shots of musicians performing. Straight in front of them, sat a long wooden desk with three computer stations situated behind it.

On the wall was a large plaque with the Masquerade Records logo (a giant letter M with a masquerade mask layered over top of it, sitting next to it a second mask decorated with music notes and music staves) the words MASQUERADE RECORDS, and the words and Damon Phillips catch phrase, "Now Hear This" in multi-colors greeted anyone and everyone that walked into the building. The same colors glowed behind the plaque, steadily changing. Even the accent pillows on the couches and chairs were in the same multiple colors.

"Tiffany," he greeted.

"You were almost late," Tiffany pointed out to him, "you know how Mr. Phillips is with his money and his time. We're meeting in conference room five." Jake's shoulders dropped and he nodded his head. "Lucky for you, he's running late. Traffic."

"Oh, thank god." Tiffany stared at him suspiciously. "I mean, I'm glad it's nothing serious." Without a word, she turned away from him.

Jake let out a cleansing breath. That just meant more time for him to go over his pitch one more time.

What the fans didn't understand, was that the music industry was all about playing catchup. Someone could come up with a good idea, and get all the well-deserved recognition for it, and then move on to the next thing when everybody else tries their hand at it too. This wasn't the first-time music acts came together to co-headline a tour. And it wasn't the first time a band was choosing to play every single album in its entirety.

But it was the first time Jake was trying to co-manage three bands at three different stages in their careers: one releasing a comeback album after years of being broken up; one who wanted to play every song off every album they had released; and one who was looking to create an album all on their own including writing, producing, releasing, marketing.

They were not big, recognizable names like Beyoncé, or U2, or the Foo Fighters. They had to work twice as hard and more just to try and get the same opportunities as them. They weren't in the business to fill up stadiums or arenas. And it would be bad form to charge insane prices to make a profit for smaller, more intimate shows as well. No matter how well Jake did in the industry, he was still going home to a small apartment, and on occasion, picking up odd jobs just for some extra spending money.

But it was all part of the job.

The music industry had changed. Streaming was more prevalent, something Jake, nor anyone else in the business, ever had to worry about. It was all about easy access. What was the easiest, and best way to get music into the hands of fans? What was one artist doing that others weren't? And how did you become that one act to get ahead of the curve, and change the way things were?

Because everyone knew that the music industry was such a whirlwind, that if you stopped for even one moment, you were miles behind, and chasing after everyone else.

"The good thing though," he said under his breath as he went through his speech, "is that these three bands don't care about all of that. They don't care about what it is everyone else is doing. They make music because it's fun. They perform because it's fun. They recognize that fans are an important part of it all, even more important now with social media, but it all just comes back to how they feel about their music. How they feel when they're up on stage performing. That is magic. And that magic is what makes them fans."

Rolling his shoulders, Jake nodded his head, pleased with his words. He laughed to himself, just thinking about how much he had to practice getting the words, "Let me introduce you to New York's hottest band," to sound un-rehearsed.

This was still a big deal. Business meetings were often held over video chat nowadays, if you were lucky enough to get past the initial e-mailing stage. And that was even if you were lucky enough to get a response at all. To get a face to face meeting, you had to be doing something right.

Whether or not Katy had passed it along, luck surely was on his side this time. It had to be. He didn't know what he'd do if he failed for a second time.

* * *

_what are you doing?_

It was almost funny how four words could get Tom Fletcher's heart racing. One single tweet and so many thoughts plagued his mind. Were they angry words? Disappointed? Curious? Who could really tell within text?

If everyone knew _why _he had had just "taken off on a jet plane," and the reason that he was now in the "Big Apple" (his tweet was really just the apple emoji – or maybe it was a tomato, he tweeted it through a case of jet lag), their minds would be blown.

It was flattering, but also kind of crazy, the kind of attention he could get by a simple tweet or a post on Instagram. Both good and bad attention. He was just some guy who wrote and played music that people loved - that he loved - in a band with the three greatest guys he had ever been fortunate enough to meet. A guy who needed a break here and there to be in the right head space to continuously put out the great music the fans expected.

Making music was hard. You put so much of your time, energy, and life into something that could either be skipped, or listened to in it's entire three minute and thirty second life – or, if listening to the whole album, over an hour's worth of content.

Holding his phone high above his head, Tom attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes. Sighing through his nose, he squinted at the blurry mass that was curtains, and the sliver of bright blue that was the New York Sky.

New York.

It wasn't unusual for him to take trips to the city for holiday, but it had been a long time since he had been there for business. On a whim, he had thought of going to New York to try his hand at shopping his music around in an attempt to find the right people. He had kind of fallen into the business back in London, how different could it be in New York?

He was naïve. Then again, he was just a kid. A kid chasing a dream.

Early days in the McFly band house were filled with excitement. Not only were they fresh out of their own homes, living on their own, eating whatever they wanted, buying whatever they wanted, but every day they got to write and make music together. How would their music videos look? What would they wear? What would the _girls_ look like? What would it be like to travel and perform the songs to people that knew every single word?

And it was all better than anything they would be doing at school.

It was funny how that one decision could lead up to the most life changing moment of his and his friends' lives. Ok, maybe being kicked out of Busted, starting his own band, meeting Jake Hardin, being signed, getting a show at the Hard Rock Café, losing his drummer, having his bassist puke, and his guitarist get a slap to the face by a guitar string was a series of incidents, but it all worked out in the end. McFly may have been a whisper in the wind as far as the American music industry was concerned, but they still got to do more than a whole lot of other people.

Sure, their album _Just My Luck _didn't do as well as they had hoped in America, and it had subsequently resulted in an extended break of trying to break into the American market, but this was the time. The days of doing grass roots efforts of promoting music had been replaced by the internet and social media where you can connect with anyone in the world in a second! Social media sites such as Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram made it easier to connect with artists and get snippets of their daily lives. People in America knew who McFly were now.

This time, it wasn't going to take luck to get the results they wanted, but hard work.

Closing his eyes, Tom could see it all before him. A sold-out crowd. Every seat filled with people, with fans, anticipating the first chord that would strike through the constant cheering. He twitched his feet, could almost the energy flowing through his legs that would build and build before the very first, high-flying, iconic jump on stage.

It had only been a year since his last tour, but it still felt like ages since he had performed. It had been about seven years since they performed in America.

_Lucky seven, _Tom thought, stretching his arms over his head. He let out a shout of pain when his phone slipped from his fingers and dropped onto the top of his head. _Maybe not so lucky. _He briefly wondered if Jake was around to cause it. Tom rubbed at the sore spot on his head, an attempt to remove the negative thought from his brain.

It was best not to doom themselves now. None of them, not Danny, Harry, or Dougie, thought they would ever get the chance again. Hell, none of them ever thought they'd get the chance to do it all with their friends. On their own terms. After their own experience, and the horror story that was Busted's attempt at cracking America a couple years earlier, they had to lay down the law somewhere. They weren't a boyband. They weren't people to make jokes of. They had put in their dues, and they were going to prove why they deserved the recognition they wanted.

Despite that, Tom, Danny, Dougie, and Harry were masters at _not _taking themselves seriously. They took their fans' interactions in stride. Interview questions were met with giggles and attempts to shift the attention from themselves and on to others. Awkward was what they did best; if their old photo shoots, and interviews, and on-stage antics were anything to go by. It was part of their charm.

A yawn taking over him – that god damn alien had kept him up late all over again, just watching, waiting – and Tom stretched his arms up over his head, tensing every muscle in his body from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Angling his head to the side, he took in the appearance of his abdominals, the line cut down the side of his thigh, and the pop of his calf muscle. It was a change from his old body. One that, if he stared at himself long enough, he would start to see make an appearance again.

Inhaling sharply through his nose, Tom relaxed his body, shaking his head back and forth. He didn't want to fall back down that hole again. It had already taken him so long to crawl back out. Five years. Things had been shrouded in so much darkness for so long, at times he wondered if he would ever find the light again. With his friends' help, even from thousands of miles away, he got the strength to keep going. He wasn't alone. He had never been. He just had to keep reminding himself of it.

Swinging his legs over the side of his bed, Tom pulled himself to his feet and removed his glasses from the nightstand. Perching them on his nose, the world came into focus and he set off to find a quick change of clothes. Everything had been thrown out of his suitcase and strewn across the floor of his hotel room. A quick sniff test here and there, and he found a clean shirt to thrown on, jumping into his jeans he wore the day before.

Making sure to grab his hotel key, he stepped out into the hall and shuffled towards the elevators. Ghosts of laughter surrounded him, reminding him of all the crazy nights on tour daring his friends to streak, or being dared to do so, and being locked out with nothing but socks. If he were lucky. They could find fun in the most surprising of places for as busy as touring was, there was also a lot of down time as well. "A lot of time to get in trouble," as Jake put it.

The elevator doors _dinged,_ and he stepped off, crossed the lobby, and took the short flight of stairs down into the eating area. He smiled, the smell of pancakes, bacon, and something fruity already hitting his nose. Starting at the drink bar, he filled a mug with hot water and grabbed himself a package of tea. Muttering to himself about the lack of a proper tea being made, he crossed the room to the back corner, and joined the man slumped in his chair, the hood to his sweatshirt pulled up over his sandy brown hair.

"Morning," Tom greeted James Bourne, lowering himself into his seat. "When'd you get in?"

"Morning," James replied, reaching for his own steaming cup. He took a sip and licked is lips. "Late." He shook his head, angling his gaze upwards to the high windows. "This is crazy. I really can't believe it."

"I know," Tom agreed. "The last time we were both here was just for holiday." James nodded solemnly.

It was a holiday for him, but work for James. He had worked so hard putting out his own music any way that he could, to anyone that would listen. Tom had been just as shocked as the fans when he found out about Busted's split. He didn't hear about it until after the whole world did; McFly was too busy filming their own music video. Only when they were taking a break and he checked his phone messages did he hear the news straight from James himself.

Tom started bouncing his knees. He bent over his tea, stirring in the mixture with a small spoon. The steam covered his glasses. He used a finger to clear the lenses before looking up at James again, who was already watching him.

Silently, James tilted his chin downwards just slightly in a nod. In return, Tom jerked his head upwards in the same fashion. Over the years, they had gone their own way, but here they were now meeting each other in the end.

Things were finally falling back into place.

He reached for his phone as it vibrated against his thigh.

_what are you doing? are we getting new music from you guys? Why are you in New York?!_

Excitement.

Tom smiled to himself. If only he had read the whole tweet the first time.

* * *

**A/N:** As mentioned above, this is a re-write of not only my fic that I had posted a little while ago called "Meet You There," but essentially my fics from a long time ago, "No More Secrets, No More Lies" and "Silence Is a Scary Sound." Riley and I have also been thinking about co-writing a new origins fic for this fandom. Plus, we haven't done a co-write in a loooong time, and have recently been talking a lot about how our OCs have and would changed over the start of our "timeline" for them to present time.

Thanks for taking the time to check out this story.

-Rhuben


	2. Shoot Your Shot

**02: Shoot Your Shot**

Good music managers were hard to find. It was even harder to become one of the good managers. Especially when working for Damon Phillips. _Especially _especially if you were known for your bad luck. Even if you knew how to navigate the world of bad luck to end the day with only a few scrapes and scratches.

It was a thankless job a lot of the time, Jake had come to realize, but still a job he wanted to work to the best of his abilities. And he had to work hard to overcome any setback his bad luck could and would arise for him. "Come from behind wins" weren't out of the ordinary, but it also included a lot of nail biting, stomach churning anxiety in the midst of things.

Nevertheless, Jake loved working. Every day was different, but he still got out of bed every day excited to see what would happen. With McFly, there was no shortage on exciting days. And stressful days. And long days.

Pouring himself a cup of lemonade from the pitcher that sat in the middle of the long conference table, Jake glanced at the closed door. Settling back into his swivel chair, he lifted his cup to his lips and swallowed the lemonade in five quick gulps. The sweetness instantly awakened his senses, the tartness stinging the salivary glands in his mouth. His jaw tightened. He smacked his lips and did another spin in the swivel chair, peeking out the large glass windows for any sign of Mr. Phillips.

"Would you relax?" Jake closed his eyes. He used his feet to turn his swivel chair in the direction of Tiffany's voice. He opened his eyes to stare at her. He twisted his mouth to the side. Lifting a hand, she brushed her long dark hair over her shoulder. "Phillips will be here. You better be practicing your pitch; he won't give you a lot of time to give it. He'll give you even less time to screw it up."

Jake lifted a hand, pointing at her. "You know, there was a time where you used to like me," he said.

Tiffany gave him a close-lipped smiled. "That was before," she said simply.

"Before I didn't lose the penthouse and all the money from the advanced check?" he asked. He smiled in amusement when Tiffany rolled her eyes.

"Aren't you cute?" she said flatly. His smiled widened. "Everyone that goes up has to fall every once in a while, Spider-Man."

"You were just hoping I'd swing you up with me," he said. "What with the strength of my Spidey web and all."

"Whatever."

Jake snorted. Tiffany was a hard worker. And she was ambitious. She could spot ways up the corporate ladder faster than anyone else. If that meant making connections (or schmoozing as he saw it) with anyone that seemed to be the next on the up and up, she would place herself in an office with them as soon as possible. But wasn't that how the industry worked? Five minutes in front of the right people and you would be set for life.

_That's all you wanted when you first started_, Jake reminded himself. _Just five minutes with Damon Phillips._ If it didn't work out, it didn't work out and, he would have gone on to someone else.

Mr. Phillips had described him as an "idealist and a purist," once, and while others saw that in a bad way, he was proud of it. Life was too short to be serious all the time. For him, it was all about what change, what uniqueness the artists could bring to the industry. It was his job to make them the best they could be and to expand their talents. Finding the target demographic and plotting the track of record sales could be left to someone else.

It was funny what money could do to people. Those who always had it never knew what it was like to go without, and those who never did didn't know what to do with themselves when they got it. It was no wonder a lot of lottery winners ended up going bankrupt so quickly.

Jake wasn't all about the money. It was great to not have to live in that shoddy death trap he called an apartment. It was even better to get Katy out of there, too. But that didn't happen without a lot of time and work put into a lot of little jobs. He still had a standing position open at the Rock and Bowl. Cleaning toilets, scrubbing cheese covered carpets, and scraping gum off tables wasn't the most glamourous of jobs, but it was an honest job to make an honest living. And if you weren't caring for the ones you loved, were you really living?

"I still think you're taking a huge risk here," Tiffany said. "I've crunched the numbers; this will be a huge investment for Masquerade Records."

"It's a huge investment for me, too," Jake said. "It always has been, but I'm not giving up on these guys." He tapped the table with the bottom of his cup. "They deserve this chance."

"I have to give you props," Tiffany said, shaking her head from side to side. "You don't give up easily. Too many people walk out those doors with their heads down."

"Yeah," Jake laughed, "thanks." He smoothed his tie for the umpteenth time. Shifted in his seat. Cleared his throat. "It's been a lot of hard work but, I think this is the right time to go about things."

"Jake," Tiffany said, turning in her seat to face him. She crossed one leg over the other at the knee. "You know what's playing on the radio nowadays. Guitars aren't in mainstream hits."

"But they are still hits," Jake pointed out. "Look at 5 Seconds of Summer. They've got two chart topping albums and have gone on record to state they miss hearing guitars on the radio and wants to bring it back. They're from Australia, just like the DarkElements. They, along with Busted and McFly have always been about playing music they enjoy. As long as they're having fun, charting singles, and record-breaking albums don't matter to them."

"If it didn't matter to them," Tiffany said with a sardonic smile, "then trying to break America wouldn't be so important to them."

Jake waved his hand in the air. He did recognize that she had a point, though. "This could be it," he said, "their time is right now." He jabbed his finger into the hard tabletop. "More people know about their music now through streams and social media. As long as people are out there to see them play, and there are a lot of them, that's all that matters."

"And as long as people are willing to put an investment in them, you mean," Tiffany replied. "We all saw what happened with McFly last time. They had great radio play, a great turn out at the Hard Rock, and then nothing. This happens all the time with new artists."

"Ah, but they're not new artists. They've played the game. They have experience under their belts. They've put in all the work to know what's best for them and what's not. Masquerade Records will be putting their name on the map if they agree to this co-headlining tour. They're not new artists—"

"So it'll cost more – as established artists go, anyway."

Jake jumped to his feet. "This isn't about the money," he insisted. "Co-headline tours aren't new, I'll admit," he said, "but it hasn't ever been done this way. Two bands of the same genre touring together is a big draw, but you're running the risk of fandoms not overlapping." He started pacing back and forth behind his chair. "These bands, they have the built-in audiences. They all have the same musical inspirations and influences. They're all friends with each other. And I mean legitimately friends. They cheer each other on, and wish nothing but the best for each other, prompting new albums whenever they're released and—and-"

For a moment, Jake stumbled over his words, too caught up in the excitement that started building over him. Now was certainly the time. It was good to be back working with the British band, armed with more information and experiences than he had when he first tried his hand at managing their band. And not just their band, but musicians in general. One day he could be stuck in an office fielding numerous phone calls to make sure everything on Mr. Phillips end with the label ran smoothly, and the next, he would be breaking up band fights, quelling anxieties, or keeping up spirits when interviewers asked "What's your favorite ice cream flavor" for the ten millionth time.

Over the past few years, his role working with McFly had greatly dwindled as they had stuck primarily to working in the UK. After their quick rise and fall in America, it was understandable. It was disheartening to say goodbye to them, but also heartwarming to see them leaving in high spirits and still taking cracks with each other. After all, they had managed to do way more than they had set out to. At least, that's how they had explained to Jake at the time. And they had no hard feelings with him, as evidenced with Tom, Danny, Harry, and Dougie keeping in contact with him over the years.

And now it was panning out. Hopefully.

With Jake's numerous roles working at Masquerade Records, he was able to keep his finger on the pulse of the music business and how it differed not only from coast to coast, but from country to country to get an idea of what the hottest trends were. He had even gotten managerial experience working with important clients through Ashley, helping her run events around the city.

While it wasn't exactly the music industry, he would take experience working for many kinds of people any way he could get it. It wasn't always the easiest job, but he was dedicated to doing the best he could. The pay also didn't hurt. When it came time to send Katy to university, it was nice to know he had a means of financing it; scholarships and loans aside. Even Ashley, with her continued position as Vice President of her public relations company, had offered to pay for her college. However, he continued to keep working through the business wherever he could; even interning for Mr. Phillips off and on in between jobs.

And, with his bad luck, it was a testament to show that he could bounce back from any problem. Even the ones he caused himself. Even then, he often found himself going to numerous musical events both for new artists and those who had been in the game long enough not only to see what kind of reception the artists got, but to speak with other managers to get an idea of what the job overall entailed.

Seven years after his first attempt, he was even more excited to get back into the music business and really push things forward. He wanted that success again through hard work and his own merit. And maybe a few hits of luck every now and then.

"I'm not going to lie, it's going to be hard," Jake said, "but this group knows what this industry is all about. They know the kind of music they want to write and want to release. They have experience handling everything personally. Learning how to produce their own music, even."

"If they want to handle all this on their own, how is Masquerade Records going to be making any profit off of this?" Tiffany asked. "Because the only thing I'm hearing right now is that the resources we could provide for them isn't going to be used."

"Why mess with something that's already working for them?" Jake asked. He cleared his throat and pushed his abandoned chair out of the way, shuffling through the stacks of paper on his desk. He found a stack of graphs and charts and pushed it towards her. "That's not to say we can't use the marketing team, or the radio promotions team, and we'll also need to use the facilities here to record. I have great faith that no matter what size the advancement cut will be, they will pay it back in spades. Nostalgia is a big drawing factor nowadays, and these bands have the sound that people used to listen to – because everyone was a teenager once."

"I don't believe in just finding the next biggest hit that will _maybe _have a single or two played on the radio," Jake said. "I believe in taking what makes an artist stand out and expand on that. And that's their passion. The fun they have making music. It's not about the catchy hooks, or how many albums sell for them, it's just about having fun."

"Having fun doesn't pay my bills."

Jake gulped at the deep, booming voice. He repeatedly smoothed down his tie and adjusted the collar of his shirt. "Mr. Phillips, sir," he said as Tiffany flew to her feet. "We were just, uh. Of course we didn't start this meeting without you."

"Of course you didn't," Mr. Phillips replied, stepping further into the room. "Because that would be a waste of money." He lifted an eyebrow in Jake's direction. "Now, _making money _that is the fun part. From what I could hear, there wasn't a lot about making money."

"Mr. Phillips," Tiffany plastered a bright smile to her face. She used her hip to push her chair to the side. With quick steps, her heels muffled by the carpet, she moved to the head of the table and pulled out the biggest chair. "Please, make yourself comfortable. We've been looking forward to your arrival all day. I can patch in those at Peggy Braden's company if you would like. Whatever decisions we come to today, you'll have the best PR team working with you. As you know."

Mr. Phillips looked thoughtful for a moment as he lowered himself into a chair at the head of the table. "Well, it would save me time from having to drive all the way across the city," he said. "And you know how much I don't like to waste time."

"Of course," Tiffany agreed. She reached towards the center of the table for the keypad. Her fingers quickly flew over the buttons, and soon a dial tone filled the space. "That is why I took the liberty of having a few selections for you for lunch. I can have them delivered at any time. Which would you like? Chinese? Mexican? Sushi?"

"Thinking ahead, saving time." Mr. Phillips nodded his head. He folded his hands into his lap. "However, it's unneeded. I've got quite the spread prepared for me back at home." He turned his attention to Jake, who gulped. "Which I would like to make it to on time. The chef gets paid whether or not I'm there. And I intend to be there."

"Yes—uh—yes, sir." Jake squatted awkwardly over his chair, debating on whether it was better to sit down or stand as he continued to address the businessman. As the seconds of silence wore on, the higher Mr. Phillips's eyebrows lifted, urging him to decide.

"_Peggy Braden's office, Samantha speaking._"

"Conference call for Miss Peggy Braden," Tiffany said, leaning towards the speaker box in the center of the table, "from Masquerade Records scheduled for 10:45."

"_Please hold._" There was a soft _click_ sound before silence once again filled the room. Then there was a short _beep_ and a voice said, "_Peggy Braden_,_ here._"

"Uh, yes, ok. I'll just get right to it, then." Jake rolled his shoulders back. If Peggy was on the line, he was sure that Ashley was seated right next to her. She was Vice President of the company after all. Jake rolled back his shoulders, a new wave of confidence washing over him. He lowered himself into his seat and pulled himself closer to the table. "Every year, the Masquerade Bash is a huge success. People talk about it, and the announcements that come from the night, for weeks. Moving forward—"

"Where are the other two?" Mr. Phillips asked. "The tall one and the British one."

"We've divided and conquered all the business meetings we had today," Jake explained, clearing his throat. "As well, with McFly being the only band having been previously signed to Masquerade Records, they found it to be better that I speak with you today."

"What?" Mr. Phillips laughed. Tiffany's eyes widened in panic. "You think because you saved me all those years ago, I owe you another favor, Spider-Man? If I recall, nothing came to pass after the Hard Rock show."

"_Mr. Phillips even you can admit that not every artist signed to your album has always been a hit_." Jake felt a smile come to his face when he heard Ashley's husky voice.

"Yes, yes, that is true." Jake nodded feverishly. Tiffany gave him a knowing smile. Jake reached for the pitcher for a second time. "However, your company has certainly built a name for itself over the years. You have great artists that have been releasing great music. And your philanthropic work over the years have aided the community in many ways."

"_That is true, Mr. Phillips_." Now Peggy was speaking. "_You've been one of the most prolific clients we've had. We are honored to work with you every year and are proud that you have decided to continue working with us_."

"Um, anyway…" Jake finished his cup. "Moving forward, I asked you in today to discuss the matter of McFly."

"Yes, yes, you want me to sign them again," Mr. Phillips said, waving his hand in the air. "But you haven't told me why, yet."

"Picture a triple co-headlining tour," Jake said. "Not just with McFly, but with the band, Busted, and the band the DarkElements. A joint venture to put on a huge tour. We all know that if you're not in the 1% of this industry – if you don't have a name like Beyoncé, or Madonna — you're not going to be filling up stadiums. Especially if you're not in pop music. It's been harder now than ever for people to fill up venues. So, we're going to go smaller, and we're going to ensure that every seat is filled. If the demand is there, then we can open up."

"Every year, the proceeds from your Masquerade Charity Ball has numerous artists from the label perform. It has also proven fruitful to be a place to introduce your new artists, what with all the media invited to attend the event. People have started to expect big news to come from this ball, so why not have this year's Ball be the event where they announce their co-headlining tour?"

Mr. Phillips slowly nodded his head. His eyebrows had lifted. The corners of his lips were pulled down. Jake had his attention.

"Peggy and Ashley can speak with their plan more one on one but brainstorming for this tour has already begun. Which is why Ronan and Fletch are not with me today; with their own respective companies, they are starting to put together press conferences both here and in Los Angeles—"

"How much is this going to cost us?"

Jake quickly reached for the stack of notecards sitting by his hand. He scrolled through everything he had written out on notecards that morning – notecards that had been blown away by cars that rushed past him as he walked the streets of New York. They had jumped a lot of topics, but he could still follow the conversation.

"Of course, this will be a bigger tour, so we need a tour manager of course. One for each band as we're making this a triple headlining show. They'll house all the itineraries of course, make sure the bands are on time and where they need to be, make sure the merch table is set up, keep lines of communication open with promoters and…" Jake trailed off at Damon's board expression. "And of course keeping up with finances for you. A detailed report to make sure you know where every piece of money is going."

"And I do like to know where my money is going. _Exactly_."

"I figured you did, Mr. Phillips," Jake replied with a smile. Score one for them. "As for how much this will cost, it'll bound to be a third of what it is you're imagining. However, the tour is guaranteed to recoup any costs faster than imagined. It has not been confirmed yet, but McFly are discussing the idea of performing an album from their discography in it's entirety every night. People will want to purchase multiple tickets to hear every song – even ones no one thought they would ever perform live."

"Indeed." Damon nodded his head. He loudly clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "More shows, more money."

"You will be spending less than the other companies as they will have two new albums to promote. New fans, and American fans who have no other way of getting their albums, will want access to the music after the concert. If we work with their company in England, we could have things available for purchase here. Sales are bound to soar. And streaming hits will go up. The higher their names are on the charts, the better chance they have to get recognition here on their own merit for the future."

"For someone who didn't want to pitch me McFly based on demographics or record sales back then, you're keen to do so now," Damon commented. He folded his arms on the table, staring Jake down. "Are you no longer idealistic?"

"Of course I am," Jake replied in an instant. "Mr. Phillips, I've been working for you, for this company for a while now. You know all I've wanted to do was to be in this industry. I know this group can do great things based on their talent and personalities alone. If that's not here in America, then so be it. They will forever be successful doing what they do best: having fun."

Mr. Phillips stared at him, stroking his chin. "You have been a hard worker." He waved his hand, motioning for Jake to continue.

"I know expenses are always on your mind, Mr. Phillips, and I would give you a full amount…" Jake shrugged, "but, I think it's a little tacky to discuss openly."

"I never had a problem with that," Mr. Phillips said flatly. Tiffany hid a laugh with a cough.

"Lemonade?" Jake asked her.

Tiffany's eyes widened slightly. "Oh, yes, please." Smiling, Jake used his hand to motion towards the pitcher in a Vanna White kind of way. Her eyes narrowed into a small glare as she got to her feet to pour herself a cup. "Thank you."

"My pleasure."

"I think I've heard enough," Damon said. "Keep in touch with Tiffany, and she will cut you a check for however much you need. Just be sure to send me a copy of all the expenses, every last thing."

"_Mr. Phillips, Ashley and I are open to sit down with you over dinner to discuss this further._"

"How could I turn down a nice meal?" Mr. Phillips asked. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his stomach with his hands. "And a discussion on how to make even more money?"

"Yes, sir," Jake replied with a smile of relief. "Will do. Thank you for coming to meet with me, today." He jumped to his feet, and speed-walked to Mr. Phillips's side, offering his hand. "I can't stress enough how much I appreciate you helping all of this come together."

Mr. Phillips slowly turned in his chair to face Jake. He blinked once. Twice. Three times. Then, with a hearty laugh, he lifted his large frame from his seat and slapped Jake on the back. Jake felt the wind pushed out of his lungs a second before he was squeezed in between Damon's arms and lifted in the air. "My man!" Damon declared. "If there's anyone out there that really knows how to run a business, knows how to work finances, it's you, Spider-Man. You with the sticky fingers."

"Uh, well, I wouldn't go that far," Jake managed to get out in a tight, painful voice.

Upon release, Jake dropped to the floor. Nearly losing his balance, he grabbed onto the swivel chair closest to him. He gave Damon a weak smile earning another hard slap to his back. Jake started choking on his saliva, tears instantly coming to his eyes.

"Don't die on me now, man," Damon said, shaking his shoulders. "We've got a lot of work ahead of us."

"That we do." Jake sighed, catching his breath. "That we do."

Mr. Phillips shuffled out of the room with Tiffany taking quick steps after him, giving Jake a hint of a smile and a thumbs up as she passed. Jake waited until he could no longer see them outside of the room and thrust his fists into the air. He even jumped and clicked his heels together. After a moment, he turned back towards the call box in the center of the table. Leaning closer, he noticed the timer of the call was still ticking upwards.

"Ash?" he asked quietly.

"_It's just me._" Ashley chuckled. "_And you've been worrying about this meeting all morning_."

"I doubt it would have gone so well without Katy giving me her luck this morning,"

"_Jake, we agreed_—"

"I know, I know, she deserves it," Jake said. He planted his hands on the table, leaning his weight onto his wrists. "Everyone has some natural luck every now and then, is it really a bad thing if we make our luck every once in a while?" Jake heard Ashley sigh. "It's not cheating. Some people are luckier than others."

"_You always told me that luck was derived from positive thinking_."

"Yeah, and I was positive that this had a very good chance of bombing." Jake smiled at Ashley's chuckle. "I'll call you later, ok?"

"_No, you'll come see me later. After dinner with Mr. Phillips we're both going to celebrate_."

"See you then." He ended the call and curled his hand into a fist, gently hitting the side of it to the table. "Perfect."


	3. Lucky One

**03:**** Lucky One**

Swirling a makeup brush around her face, eyes closed as she applied foundation, Katy smiled to herself as she heard the front door swing open and then slam shut a moment later.

"I was about to head out," she called, stepping out of the bathroom and into the hallway. "How was last night?"

Jake squinted at Katy as he stepped through the hall, pulling at the tie that was draped over his shoulders. "You stayed here last night?" he asked.

Katy shrugged. "Quieter than the dorms," she replied, "I needed to watch a video lecture for class. I left you a message."

"I thought you were staying just until you got your work done," he replied.

Katy's eyes narrowed as she looked her cousin over. Something was off with him. No matter what, she had always known Jake as the type of person to be a positive person. No one else could be as unlucky as him and still go through the day with a smile on his face. "How was last night?" she repeated, this time with less of a teasing tone to her voice.

"It was great, and then it was ok, and then it was bad."

Katy lowered the brush from her face. "Your meeting with Phillips went great," she said, her voice echoing as she stepped back into the bathroom, "what happened?"

"Ash and I got into a fight," Jake replied. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorjamb.

Katy stared wide-eyed at Jake's reflection in the mirror. "What about?" she asked. As she waited for her answer, she busied herself with looking through her makeup bag for an eyeliner pencil and the pencil sharpener. Shavings fell into the sink with the twist of her wrist.

"It wasn't about you," Jake said. "I told you, you didn't have to worry about that."

Katy threw her hands into the air before moving her eyeliner pencil towards her eye. "If I hadn't decided to go into fashion, school wouldn't have been so expensive," she mumbled. "I didn't _have _to go to college."

"I'm proud of you, dude, you know that," Jake reassured her, lifting a hand to rub at his eyes. His mouth parted, lips pulling back to reveal is teeth in a big yawn. "I'd break my back to get enough money to get you to do whatever it was you wanted to do in this world. You know that."

Katy sighed through her nose. Jake had taken a bunch of odd jobs just to make sure the two of them were ok after their Aunt Martha had died. No, even before that, he was busting his butt to take care of all of them. "Yeah," she agreed, "and you did do that."

"I don't hate that I had to do it," Jake reassured her, "we had to pay for your schooling somehow. Scholarships weren't going to cover all of it. And Ashley helped out. She didn't need to, but she did." He then fixed her with a hard stare. "And you were going to go to college. I was going to make sure of that."

"So, what'd you guys argue about?" Katy asked.

Jake sighed. For a minute, Katy wasn't sure if he was every going to answer. "You know what happened the last time McFly was out here," he said. "With the Hard Rock Café."

"The show at the Hard Rock Café went off without a hitch." Her lips twitched. "For the most part." Even Jake looked like he was trying not to laugh.

"It's not that, I mean what happened afterwards." Katy hummed when Jake started loosening the buttons on the cuffs of his shirt. "There was interest in the band and then it all just went away."

"You and I both know just happens sometimes," Katy replied. "I wouldn't call them one hit wonders, of course, but there has to be something that went right if Mr. Phillips decided that he wants to work with them again."

Jake laughed. "Yeah, that's because Ash did me a solid and drew up a fool proof plan for all of this," he said, "_and _because I kissed his ass for months on end to stay in his good graces."

Katy's upper lip curled. "I remember you two getting into an argument over that, too," Katy replied. "In fact, you broke up once because of it."

"Exactly," Jake replied, pushing his shirt sleeves up to his elbows. "That's what we fought over last night; how much work I'm putting into this."

Katy turned to face Jake, placing a hand on her hip. "Hmm," she said, eyebrows coming towards each other, "but Ash knows how tough your job is – how much goes into it. It's not exactly a 9 to 5 kind of thing."

"Neither is her job either," Jake replied, his tone taking a sudden higher pitched quality. "Which I, stupidly, thought was a great thing to remind her." Katy made a face. "Yeah, exactly. I was an idiot. She was saying that our jobs weren't the problem, it was how I prioritized my job over everything else."

For a second time, Katy hummed. Jake was a hard worker. He wasn't ever really one to sit still; he thrived in a working environment, but she wouldn't say he was obsessed with this work. Not really. This was a special occasion, though. Not many people got a second shot at trying to put a band through the music industry, especially with how much it had changed over the years. Artists were referred to as "one hit wonders" for a reason. Even if they released another song, it was never bound to be as big of a hit as that first song. Still, they kept going, creating music that they stood behind. Why should that be any different for Jake?

It wasn't much different for Ashley, either. At least, that's how Katy perceived it on the outside looking in. Peggy Braden's company was one that would bend over backwards to keep a client and if that tether was ever broken for whatever reason, it was hard to get She had to keep working to keep her clients. It wasn't out of the ordinary to have Ashley step away from a dinner out to take a phone call or two to smooth things over with a potential client, or whatever trash fire had cropped up in her absence. She was downright good at her job and it showed.

Sometimes that meant sacrifices had to be made, and compromises had to be reached. For both of them, it usually meant not being able to see each other as much as they might have liked. But it was something they had both agreed to. Maybe it wasn't enough anymore.

There had been moments where they both had giant spaces free in their schedules to meet up. Then a sudden meeting would arise. Or Jake would decide he'd work late into the night just to scrape together some extra spending money for Katy, or to work off as much of a project as possible to have a lighter workload later on.

"Over _her_," Katy corrected him. Jake blinked in surprise. "Jake, you two have been together for _years_." She used her hand to indicate the apartment around them. "You don't even live with each other."

Jake snorted. "Could you imagine her in a place like this?" he asked.

Katy lifted her chin, looking him in the eye. "I think it's a great place to live," she said, lifting an eyebrow "for anybody."

Still, she understood what it was he trying to get at. He only got the penthouse because of his work with Mr. Philipps. If not, they would probably still be back in their old apartment building. The water didn't run all the time. The stairs broke constantly. Their HVAC couldn't even decide on what season it was half of the time. She missed it in a way, just how simple things were. In a situation like that, you just felt closer to people, more understanding.

Ashley could empathize to some degree. She had to move into her friends' already too small apartment when she was on her streak of bad luck. But she knew what it was there were others she knew absolutely nothing about. Because she knew what it was like to have a lot of money. Katy and Jake only knew what it was like to be _around_ a lot of money.

"You're right, you're right," Jake said. His cheeks puffed out as he let out a breath of air. "I'm just not saying the right things today, it seems." He watched her carefully as Katy turned back to the mirror doing one last check of her styling for the day. "You believe me, don't you? Whatever problems Ash and I have had, it's always been about us. How we chose to handle, or not handle situations. It was never about you, ok?"

"Mm-hmm." Katy nodded. "I'm just saying, you can only date someone for so long. Sooner or later, someone wants more."

"Or they don't," Jake replied. Katy wrinkled her nose. He clearly didn't understand women. Whether or not a marriage was in their future, a clear-cut definition of what they were as a couple was something that was needed. "There are plenty of couples you live out long lives that don't get married."

"You don't want to get married?"

"I didn't say that."

"So, you _do_ want to get married?"

"I didn't say that, either."

"Ashley isn't just going to keep waiting for you," Katy replied, "that's all I'm saying." She clicked her tongue, shaking her head back and forth. "Look at the example you're setting me, coming in at all hours of the morning. Not anywhere closer to getting engaged. What would Aunt Martha say?" Katy didn't really care how Jake was handling his love life as long as he was happy. While not so experienced in the romance department, she was smart enough to know that It wasn't like everything in the movies.

"We got into one fight," Jake said, "that's all. We're still good. It's still me and Ash." Katy lifted an eyebrow in the mirror. "And you."

"Thanks," Katy said with a snort. "It's not like I'm an important part of your life or anything like that. I'm only just your cousin."

Jake laughed. "You're more important to me than anybody else, you know that," he said. "You jump, I jump, right?" He then stepped forward and kissed the top of her head. "Now hurry up and get to class."

Katy rolled her eyes but smiled at the comment. For the longest time, it was the two of them facing everything together. As childish as it sounded now, it still brought a bit of comfort to her. Jake had always been there for her, and that wasn't going to change anytime soon.

"How do I look?" she asked, turning to face him.

Jake looked her up and down. "Have you gotten taller?" he asked.

"Jake."

"You look great," he said, backing out of the room. "You always do. You only have two classes today, right?"

"Yeah," Katy agreed, "but I have work tonight. So, I'll see you later."

"Do you have your books? You go bag?"

"Backpack by the door, and my go bag is in my dorm." Katy shuffled past Jake, making a beeline for the front door.

Truth be told, she didn't need the go bag anymore (to anyone else it looked like an overstuffed backpack that had been stretched and ripped and put back together multiple times); luck was always on her side. In fact, she could feel it flowing through her fingertips right now – which made her wonder how Jake and Ashley could have gotten into a fight if he had the luck - but it didn't hurt to be prepared. She grabbed her backpack, sliding her arms through the straps. Reaching back behind her, she freed her hair from between her shoulders and the backpack.

"Just so you know," she called to him from the front door, "whenever you do get married—"

"You want to be the maid of honor?" Jake shouted back, sounding distant as he was in his room.

"Best man," Katy replied. "I think I'd look pretty good in a tux, don't you?" Jake laughed in response. Katy checked she had her keys and headed out the door. "Bye. I'll see you later."

Katy made it through the city to NYU's campus to arrive to her first class of the day with five minutes to spare. The hour-long class went by uneventfully. She stopped by her dorm to exchange book and double check that she had everything ready for work that evening. Cutting through the Student Lice Center, she got a quick snack in lieu of lunch and then rushed off to her next class. Luckily, her best friend Jane, had arrived early enough in the auditorium style room to save her a seat. Lowering her backpack to the floor, Katy carefully slid into the seat.

"You ok?" Jane asked, eyebrows pulling towards each other.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Katy replied. Jane continued to stare at her, and Katy said with a sigh, "Jake and Ashley got into a fight last night. Sounds like it was a pretty big one."

"They've gotten into fights before," Jane said with a shrug of her shoulders. "Right? Not to downplay it or anything."

"They have, but…" Katy chewed on her bottom lip as she started looking through her backpack for the right textbook and notebook. "They were fighting about their jobs, I guess. She feels like he prioritizes his work over her. He pointed out that she has a job, too. It's weird."

"How so?"

Katy looked up from her belongings, staring into the space in front of her. Jane's parents were divorced, fighting wasn't anything out of the ordinary for her to witness, whether or not Jane knew at the time what was going on. Katy didn't want fighting to become normal for Jake and Ashley.

"He had my luck all day," Katy said. "It should have been a perfect for him. I _hoped_ it would all be perfect for him. I haven't had a luck flub in a while."

"Maybe that's something luck can't change?" Jane suggested. "Fighting is inevitable. Even the closest people do it."

"I guess." Katy flipped open her notebook, pushing past pages filled with her small, loopy handwriting. "I don't know. It was just weird. Oh, gross!" She had just reached under her seat to grab a hold of it, giving her support as she shifted to sit up straight and her fingers pushed into something cold, but slightly wet, hard, but kind of soft. Pulling her hand back, gum stretched from her fingers to the seat. "Great."

"Ew." Jane's nose wrinkled as Katy dragged her finger on the side of the seat, scraping the gum off.

"How long would you stay with someone if they haven't asked you to marry them?" Katy asked, crossing a leg over her knee.

Jane's eyebrows lifted. "Depends I guess," she said. "If we already talked about getting married, I probably would pop the question myself after a while."

"You wouldn't break things off?" Katy asked.

"It's always an option," Jane replied, pulling her mouth to the side. "If it's never been talked about, but was still expected, then the lack of communication was a problem in the relationship in the first place." She shook her head back and forth. "I don't know. Depends on the circumstances, I guess. Some people just aren't the type to be married."

Katy settled back in her seat as the teacher took their position at the start of the class. She didn't know a lot of people that were at the stage to be married. What were her parents like? Did they wait a long time to be married? Did they always know that they were meant to be together? Here she was 21 years old, and she hadn't had much luck with relationships compared to other people her age. Was there something wrong with her?

She started tapping her pen repeatedly against her notebook, leaning forward to rest her chin in the palm of her hand. Aunt Martha had taken care of Katy on her own apart from Jake. Always mentioning that Katy didn't need to be in a relationship to live a satisfied life. But it must be nice to go through life with someone. Katy looked down at her black and white striped crop shirt, dark wash blue skinny jeans, and boots – a far cry from her tomboy days. Though, she didn't feel much different on the inside, maybe people didn't see much of a change on the outside, either.

"If you're not in the position to hire those to select your fragrances for you - starting from the scents and how they mix together, the bottle, and the packaging – you need to understand the market research. You may like vanilla and jasmine, but someone else might think it's too sweet. It could bring a warm memory for you, but a bad one for them."

Katy paused in the middle of her margin doodles to quickly jot down notes.

"Miss Hardin? Do you have an answer?"

"Ummm." Katy tapped her pen against her notebook. _Think, think. Think, Katy, think. What was she just talking about? _"Getting an understanding…of what smells are currently on trend…gives you an idea of where to start. Otherwise, you'll have a bit of a harder time finding your niche."

"Good." Katy settled back in her chair, sighing in relief as the teacher turned away from her to the podium holding up a Mac laptop. "That's a very good observation."

_BUSTED!_

Katy grinned down at the note in the top corner of her notebook. She looked over at Jane who wiggled her eyebrows mischievously. Katy stuck her tongue out in response.

Yes, in that moment, she was definitely lucky. Thankfully, it decided to kick in at the right moment. Ashely and Jake had transferred "the luck power" to her in a kissing frenzy…after their own kissing frenzy, so were they transferring the bad luck, too? It was all too complicated to think about so Katy enjoyed her luck while she had it.

The bell rang, and she dropped her pen, slapping the cover of her notebook shut.

"For next class," the teacher called over the shuffling papers, screeching chairs, and chatter, "have ready a list of pros and cons you see for your pitched fragrances. Good work today. We're one step closer to exams, don't slack off now. See you next class."

Shoving her belongings into her backpack, Katy zipped it up and pushed back from the table, waiting for other students to file out of the room and followed them. Jane bumped Katy's shoulder with her own, laughing. "You should have seen the look on your face," she said. "I thought for sure you had zoned out."

Katy glanced over her shoulder to make sure their teacher wasn't right behind them. "To be honest, I had," she replied. "I've got just enough time to do my homework before work."

"At least you're done," Jane said with a sigh. "My business group rescheduled for this afternoon." She sighed through her nose. "You going to be back in your dorm after work or will you stay with your cousin?"

"Probably stay with Jake," Katy replied with a shrug, "I'll let you know. But, if you've got some time for five-dollar games, I could use the company."

"I'll let you know," Jane said, moving to give her a one-armed hug as soon as they stepped outside of the education building. "Have a great shift."

"Thanks. I'll see you later." A grunt expelled from her when the strap of her backpack got caught on the door handle to the building. She tried to step forward but didn't go far. Instead, her back slammed against the door. Tensing, she let out a sigh through her nose. "If I can make it back to the dorm in one piece."

"Good luck," Jane said with a laugh, helping her remove her backpack strap.

Katy let out a humorless laugh. "Thanks, I'll need it," she replied. Waving, she headed back towards her dorm building, whistling to herself.

Rock-N-Bowl wasn't the most glamorous job in the world, both Jake and Ashley could attest to that, but she didn't really mind it. There were a few regulars she could talk to, bowling parties brought in a lot of traffic, and overall, it wasn't anything too demanding. Rock-N-Bowl was a sort of hole in the wall but was a great place for fun that wasn't too expensive. It, in fact, had in the past few years been renovated to keep up with the times. And, on occasion, some high-profile people could walk in through the front doors.

Just knowing McFly was now in New York, she was just waiting for them to come in one day. After all, Rock-and-Bowl was where they got their start. And how cool was it that she was friends with a well-known band?

Following them on social media, and occasional video chats squeezed into busy schedules were nothing compared to seeing them in person. She never thought people like Tom, Danny, Dougie, and Harry would ever want to try and keep in touch with someone like her. Someone so…plain. But their names would appear on her cell phone occasionally. It was still strange, and it still made her heart pump a little (especially in Danny's case), but nice. Occasionally, if any of them would come to New York on their own on vacation (or "on holiday" as they put it), she would try and find time to go with Jake to meet up with them.

Busted, she hadn't met yet. If they were as crazy as McFly could be, she knew she was in for a good time.

The strangest part of it all was seeing the two sides of her friends, and the media following their lives. Their public personas were completely different (for the most part) than how they were when hanging around family and friends. The rest of the world thought it was their true selves, and practically fell over each other trying to get a snapshot of it. It was pretty funny to watch. Every once in a while, her popularity online would spike whenever she was seen in a picture with them. Not even just them, but Jake, too. While his career wasn't as big as he had hoped, people in the business still knew his name to some degree.

It was just strange.

Danny, Dougie, Tom, and Danny were just as crazy in front of the cameras and behind closed doors, but they were also more self-aware. They had their insecurities and worries, too. The stories that would come out about their lives, social, or romantic were downright hilarious. Whether it was online or published in magazines, she would snap a picture of it to send to them to laugh about it. And, maybe, to see if any of the news is true. She was a fan, and just like other entertainers, she wanted to know the juicy gossip.

After completing her homework, Katy quickly took a shower, and changed into her work uniform. Making sure she had her go bag (a "survival kit" as Jane called it), she hurried out of the building and took the bus across the city. Pushing through the front doors, loud pounding music, the staccato of pins falling over, and excited chatter reached her ears.

"Looks like a great turn out tonight," Katy said, stepping over to the shoe counter. The young man standing by the register chuckled, tucking a golf pencil behind his ear.

"So good in fact, someone excitedly expressed themselves all over the bathroom," he replied. He angled his head towards the other side of the room. "Might want to get to it before Mac finds it."

"Right, right," Katy said with a sigh. Stepping around the front of the counter, she pushed open the counter swing door and stumbled over the raised step. "Ahhh!" Pitching forward, she grabbed onto the counter and fell to her knees. The bag on her back shifted, pulling her sideways. She huffed in annoyance. "Damn it."

"So," her co-worker commented, staring down at her, "How's that supposed luck working out?"

"Oh, be quiet."

* * *

**A/N: **Writing an older Katy is really fun. I always saw her as someone who was confident in herself, but just like everybody had her insecurities and worries that she only showed a small amount of people. And, of course, I like writing her and Jake together as well.

-Rhuben


	4. Failure's Not Flattering

**04: Failure's Not Flattering**

"I don't know what's worse; trying to control McFly when they're suffering from jet lag or trying to control McFly band when they're well rested."

Jake laughed quietly as to not disturb the other diners in the hotel restaurant as Fletch lowered himself into the chair situated across the table from himself. He set his phone face down on the table, giving his friend, and fellow manager, his full attention.

"Hopefully," Fletch said with a sigh, rapping his knuckles on the table, "they'll stay in the room this time. I don't think the staff want to be pulled into a game of hide and seek this late at night."

"Even you have to admit, the places they can wedge themselves into is pretty impressive," Jake said.

Fletch snorted, before relaxing into a hint of a smile. "Are you talking in general or musically?" he asked. Jake grinned.

Sometimes, it was hard for himself to believe just how successful McFly had become. They had appeared in the business and right from the start had the run of their own show. And the fans followed them. Not that many people could say the same thing. Or even be able to continue creating music after releasing two studio albums. The music industry nowadays was so fickle. All the attention could be put on a debut album, and there would be success there, and the next thing you knew, bands were putting out EPs.

And there were a lot of reasons for it. Initial record contracts didn't work out the way an artist wanted. An artist wanted to take the time to hone their craft by working on a fewer number of things than everything at once. It was cheaper. Artists had more control. It came with less pressure. There were so many answers and reasons why, but the industry didn't wait for the answers. Or, excuses, as they may have seen it.

Big executives were always looking for the "next big thing." That next wave on the horizon. The wave they could ride and carve out of it as much as they could. Sometimes, it paid to be patient and stick things out with what you knew worked best. After all, Rihanna had a couple of hit singles before she exploded on the scene with her third album.

Even then, Jake wondered just how patient he could be. McFly were a great band. It was only a matter of time before the world over recognized it. And he was determined to make that time now.

"How's Katy doing?" Fletch asked.

"Hopefully making it through her shift at the bowling alley," Jake said, twisting his arm to glance at his watch. "If she's lucky, the after work and dinner rush isn't too bad." He then settled back in his chair. "She's doing really well. Enjoying school. She's started her own YouTube channel for makeup tutorials. I'm telling you, whatever she wants to do, she'll be able to do it." He shook his head back and forth, letting out a sigh. "It's so weird, though. Like, I can still picture her at five years old. Sometimes, I wonder how she grew up so much."

"You and your Aunt Martha have done a great job," Fletch said. He reached for his glass of ice water and spun the contents around before taking a sip. "And Ashley? How's she doing?"

"Good." Jake nodded. "She's good. _We're _good. Still surviving those bouts of bad luck every now and then." He sucked his lips into his mouth. "Really gearing up for the Masquerade Party, so she's been a tad bit on edge. But, it's good."

"Mmm." Fletch gave a knowing nod. "I can see where you're coming from. Dougie's usually the easiest one to handle. He just kind of goes along with everyone else." He paused. "Which makes him the hardest to handle once they all get riled up. I mean, he never sits still, but when he's anxious, he never sits still."

The two men looked at the waiter as he stepped over to the table. Jake grabbed the menu he had set aside to remind himself of his choice. Then, he handed it over to Fletch who quickly flipped through it.

"I'd like the Old Bay shrimp and the lamb chops, please," Jake said, "and the Conde Villar Rose, wine."

"And I'll have the filet, the lump crab salad, and the Charter Punch," Fletch said with a smile of thanks. The waiter nodded as he scribbled down their order, took their menu, and left to start the cook prepping their meals.

"I think we have a big thing on our hands, ok?" Jake said, pressing his hands together, the second the waiter had walked away. Fletch angled his eyebrows towards each other and nodded his head at Jake's sudden intensity. "Realistically, it may not be as big as, say, One Direction coming to America, but we're really doing something different here. It's a risk, but if done right, it could lead to good things. More headlining performances in America for Busted and McFly for example. We just need to home in on reaching our audience as best we can as well as branching out to the outlets that don't exactly know who the bands are or what they're about."

"You don't have to pitch anything to me," Fletch said with a laugh. "The balls are already rolling on this, mate. Kind of getting to the point where we can't back out, can we?"

"I know, I know," Jake replied. "I'm just excited."

"Excitement is good. We just need to make sure it doesn't become too much. Pressure isn't going to help these groups, mate," Fletch said, clasping his fingers together. He rested his elbows on the table, settling his chin on top of his hands. "They've always been the type to do what they wanted. Even within any confines they have." He pointed back and forth between himself and Jake. "You and I both know that."

Jake nodded in agreement. He loved his time working with McFly. He loved their energy, in and outside of the studio. But he couldn't deny that it wasn't always fun. Seeing them get so dejected when showcase after showcase didn't work out. Or they were suddenly tasked with writing a second song to perform at their Hard Rock Café, show. And his fluctuating luck had a big hand in a lot of that. Still, whether Jake was making sure things ran smoothly on his end with Mr. Phillips, or on the band's end regarding breaking up quickly growing fights, teasing sessions, or to quell anxieties, he wouldn't change anything about his job.

"I'm thinking, we can expand their dedicated fanbase, and reach new fans if we have them vlog and record the process from now to the end of tour," Jake said, feeling himself smile. He was excited about his own idea. Over time, vlogging, and getting an inside look at the everyday lives of their favorite celebrities, had grown in popularity. Ordinary people were becoming "YouTube famous" now. Why not capitalize on it with already established people? Give fans a _reason _to follow them on social media? "Those who know how long these three bands have been friends will get to see them interact more, and for those who just know of the one band, they'll be exposed to new music as they make appearances in videos."

"So, one video would be on McFly's channel, the next on Busted's, and the third on Blazing Phoenix's?" Fletch asked. His lips pulled down in the corners as he thought about it. "I can see that, but it would become harder to do as we get busier. Which goes back to not wanting to put more pressure on any of them. If we already start stressing out about how things could be, it won't feel great if it falls flat."

"It won't," Jake insisted. "I know it won't. Besides, things always end up working out in the end, doesn't it?"

"I saw the Busted lads' faces when they were being packaged as a pop act," Fletch said, leaning back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. "I worked hard to turn it around. I can't say it wasn't disheartening to see. I'm not going to have them go through that again. Charlie, especially."

"There are so many sub-genres to each genre out there, I doubt anyone would instantly think of them as a pop group," Jake said, waving his hand away. "Not anymore, anyway. Besides, with streaming platforms, so many people can instantly reach so many different genres. It's not an exclusive thing, anymore. The metalheads don't just listen to metal. The pop fans have been enjoying indie. Look at what's on the radio, now."

"I'm just saying," Fletch said, hitting the table with the sides of his hands. His palms were pressed together as if he was praying. Maybe he was. "We need to look at this strategically. Once we're really getting into the swing of things, it could be hard to come up with content. I mean, even they won't get through this without a case of writer's block at one point or another." He allowed a smile. "As long as we're all on the same page; we really listen to each other, and to the bands, and we make sure we get to do what we want to do, we'll have no issue."

"Once Ronan flies in, we can see where he's at with everything," Jake said.

Fletch waved his hand in the air as their food and drinks were brought over. "You know how Ronan is," he said. "As long as he has everything laid out in front of him, he's good to go."

"Yeah, well, maybe you two will find some lovely ladies at this party," Jake said. Fletch hummed in the back of his throat. "You know it's how I met Ashley."

"That was a fluke, don't you reckon?" Fletch asked. "All your bad luck just lined up to meet a girl who just so happened to have the luck you needed." He shook his head back and forth. "Besides, I have someone."

"So, you say," Jake commented. Fletch dropped his fork and threw his hands into the air. "All I'm saying is, I'd be more inclined to believe you if I just met her."

"There's no way I'm bringing her around this crazy lot," Fletch said, deadpan, drawing a circle in the air with his index finger. "Ever." Jake laughed. "How long have you been together for, again?"

"A while," Jake replied with a blink.

"And you haven't thought about engagement?"

"Of course, I've thought about it." Jake felt his shoulders tense defensively. "Katy won't let me _not _think about it."

"And?"

"And…I don't know," Jake replied. "Ashley deserves the best. The best ring, the best dress, the best location." He let out a sigh as he chewed. "I don't know."

"You don't know…" Fletch let his question hang in the air, prompting Jake to finish it for him. Jake just shrugged. "You've come a long way from where you started, you know."

"I know."

Fletch pointed his fork at Jake as he chewed. "You still think of yourself as the guy with bad luck, right?"

Jake took his time chewing his own bite of food. In short? Yes. He was still Jake, the guy with the shoes that needed to be duct taped shut to keep out water, in a death trap he called a studio apartment. He may have been able to afford nicer clothes, and even be able to have them tailored more to himself, but he was still just Jake.

And she was _the _Ashley Albright. She would only stay with him for so long.

"Mate, don't think like that," Fletch said, clicking his tongue. "Positivity, yeah? I see good things for the two of you." He shrugged. "Who knows what the future holds for us?"

"Success." Jake smiled and leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. "Sweet, sweet, success." He gasped when he felt his chair tilt past the point of no return and topple over. Back slamming to the ground, his legs splayed in front of him, the chair was only cushioned by the carpeting only slightly. "I'm ok."

"I'll be surprised if we get through this _without _a few bumps and bruises along the way," Fletch said, looking around the side of the table to watch Jake as he picked himself up off the floor.

Jake just smiled sheepishly.


	5. Here We Go

**05: Here We Go**

"One, two, three, four." Jake quickly did a head count of the McFly boys who were mulling around the third floor of Masquerade Records. He then turned towards James, Charlie, and Matt who were sitting in one of the many chairs and benches that were situated in the lobby. Fletch stood off in the corner, his phone to his ear, head bowed as he talked quietly. "And we have everyone from Busted here. Ok, things are running smoothly and we're—" He twisted his watch towards him, "already ahead of schedule. Great!"

Leaning up against a clear space along the wall, he let out a deep sigh. Before tensing and jumping away when he heard a loud scraping sound and watched a large gold record by Hawk Nelson slide back into place. Putting a hand to his chest, Jake let out a sigh of relief. Sliding his hands into his pockets, he looked around the group again. Expecting Tom, Danny, Dougie, and Harry to stand still for five minutes was pointless. Especially when they had an undetermined amount of waiting in front of them. Despite their ages, they still acted like a bunch of squirmy little kids. But that was something that Jake liked about them so much.

While on the one hand they didn't take themselves seriously, when it came to get down to work, their music always had their undivided attention. For the most part. Kind of. Getting side-tracked was a regular occurrence with them. Even now they would occasionally mill towards each other and strike each other with the bottled water they received upon entering Masquerade Records when they least expected it.

Their social media presence was also a good indicator of the random things they could get up to when they had too much time on their hands. Then again, it wasn't that surprising; contractually, they weren't allowed to give away anything about any new music until a strategically placed time. Fans always wanted to see what they were up to, and McFly gave the fans what they wanted.

He couldn't deny that they put out great music, though.

"Now, if you would all just stop moving," he said more to himself, sounding exhausted and amused all at the same time. "For once."

Like that was going to happen: if there was one thing he knew about this industry, there was a lot of downtime, which meant a lot of time trying to keep yourself entertained. That was never hard for them to do, although Jake did often wonder how they could come up with some of their ideas. On rare occasions he witnessed a game from conception to actualization and he _still _wondered how they collectively got the wheels turning in their heads to think it was a good idea.

Like the time Dougie got stuck in a rolling stereo rack during a game of hide and seek.

Or the time Danny got stuck in a revolving door.

Or when they all nearly broke their toes playing golf in the dark.

"Ok," he said, reaching for his cell phone, opening his e-mail app. His inbox, filled with hundreds of e-mails, appeared in front of his face. He quickly scanned through his e-mail before he opened the one he was looking for. "Breakfast; check," he quietly read to himself, "studio call-in; check, and meeting at Masquerade Records." Biting down on his bottom lip, he quickly scrolled through the list of places to visit and people to meet in the next couple of days, making sure they were on schedule, and that there was room to swap positions of anything if any problems arose.

Knowing his luck, it was better to be prepared.

His bad luck wasn't too damaging nowadays, but he'd be lying if he had said that there weren't times where he wanted to track Katy down and beg her for her good luck. Who wouldn't want everything in the world to go their way, with no hang ups, and nothing to blindside them? It was a great feeling while it lasted, but it was even better to see Katy have everything go her way. If there was anyone who deserved to be happy, it was her. After years of feeling like she was the odd one out, teased mercilessly by the kids in her class, it was great to see her grow more confident over the years.

"Oh, geeze!" His phone slipped out of his pocket and he scrambled to grab it out of the air before it hit the floor. Clutching his phone to his chest, he practically pet it lovingly, before returning it to his pocket. "Phew, that was close!"

"Oi, Jake!" Harry shouted, waving his arms over his head. "Check this out, mate."

Jake sighed. "You don't have to yell, Harry," he said, purposefully talking in a quiet voice, "we're the only ones here. Keep your voice down."

"Mate, we're not in a library," Harry said with a scoff.

Jake chose not to respond, instead choosing to focus his attention on picking up his "lucky backpack." The last thing he needed was someone called on him for an unattended bag. His backpack didn't have the same charm as his old bag—which had been through many rips and tears and looked to be one loose thread from falling apart—but it was still holding up well.

"What is it exactly I'm looking at?" he asked. Harry wordlessly pointed towards the portraits hung up on the wall.

Between band posters, blown up album covers, and gold and platinum CD placards, performance pictures were hung up on the walls. Singers screaming into microphones, guitarists with hair flying, bassists leaping through the air, drummers twirling their drumsticks. There were some big-name bands he recognized on the walls. And, finally, Jake spotted a few stills of McFly at their hard rock show.

One of Danny with his mouth pressed up against his microphone, one hand pointed high up into the air. One of Dougie in the middle of a spin, fingers plucking at the strings of his bass guitar. One of Tom leaping high into the air, legs tucked underneath him. And one taken from the back of the stage, of McFly's silhouettes juxtaposed against the lights from the stage, the vast crowd in front of them.

"How did I not notice this?" Jake asked, peering at the pictures. He removed his glasses from his face and squinted at the pictures.

"Uh, mate," Dougie said, reaching up a hand to bury his fingers in his hair, "glasses are supposed to _help _you see."

"I haven't gotten my prescription checked in a bit," Jake replied, tipping his bag off his shoulder. He started looking through his bag. "Ah ha!" He removed his hand, gripping his contacts case in his hand. Clenching the arm of his glasses between his teeth, he removed one contact from the container, placing it against his eye.

"Mate, no offense, but even with your contacts, you couldn't even see a bloody pothole in front of you," Tom commented. He elbowed Danny in the side, grinning. "Practically took a swan dive."

"I tidn't tump," Jake protested before removing his glasses arm from his mouth, placing them atop his head. "I didn't_ jump_ into a pothole, I walked into a puddle." His lips twitched. "A very deep puddle."

"It was a pothole."

"Anyway–"

"There was also the time you nearly suffocated yourself trying to flip a mattress," Danny added.

"And, Jake, didn't you also pick up a ten spot with dog crap in it?" Harry asked. "And it stuck to you?"

"OK!"

"Geeze, Jake, we were just asking a question," Dougie said with a grin. "No need to get angry."

"I'm not angry!" Jake replied insisted, staring at the half blurry, half clear image of the band that stood in front of him. He started to put his left contact in. "I just see your point. Gosh darn it!" He watched as his contact fluttered to the ground, briefly reflecting the lights of the airport before it disappeared. "Shoot."

"Aw, rotten luck, mate," Tom commented with a click of his tongue.

"Ok, fan out!" Jake commanded. He spread his arms out to his sides. "Nobody move!"

"Mate, you just told them to fan out," James pointed out from where he was sitting. Matt's cackle broke through the otherwise quietness of the lobby.

Jake rolled his eyes before he dropped to his knees, patting the floor. "Come on, come on, come on," he repeated to himself. He spun in a circle. "Where are you?"

"Uh, maybe we can be of some help, yeah" Charlie suggested to James and Matt, nodding his head in Jake's direction. He gripped the arm rests of his chair and lifted himself to his full 6"4 height. James and Matt followed him over to Jake's side.

"Thanks guys, I appreciate it," Jake said, moving to a crouched position.

The seven boys surrounded Jake and pointed their cell phones towards him. Grunting, Jake closed an eye when all the phones shone a bright light in his face. Flashlights. The boys slowly moved their phones around his body and down his clothing to look for the missing contact.

"Got it!" Tom pointed. "On your trainer."

Jake twisted and, spotting the reflecting piece of plastic, plucked it off his shoe with his finger. "Yes!" He grinned in triumph and carefully balanced it on the pad of his finger. "Gotcha." His smile faded when he realized with a quickly rising sense of horror that all his contact cleaning supplies was back in the hotel. "Shit! I mean—shoot!" He quickly remembered who he was talking to and realized he didn't need to censor himself. "Shit!"

"And this is why I don't bother with contacts," Dougie commented.

"That, and you hate sticking your fingers in your eyes," Harry said, clapping Dougie on the shoulder. "Which seems to be no problem considering where you _like _sticking your fingers." Dougie merely waggled his eyebrows, smirking.

"Here, mate, just use my water," James suggested, tucking his cell phone back into his pocket. He crossed the room to the chair he abandoned and picked up his bottled water.

Jake stared at the half drink bottle of water before looking into James's eyes. "I am _not_ putting your backwash in my eye," he replied. James shrugged and unscrewed the cap to the bottle before he took a long sip.

"Here," Tom said, handing Jake an unopened bottle of water. "Reckon I was going to save it for later, but you look like you need it most."

"Thanks, Tom," Jake said, taking the bottle of water. He quickly twisted off the cap before carefully setting the contact lens into the palm of his hand. Using the water, he shook any of the dirt off the lens before carefully placing it in his eye. "Ok, ok, we're good. Phew." He stood content for a moment before the pain started. His eyes watered. "Ow, ow, ow, _ow._" He started fanning at his eye with his hand._ "_It's burning. It's burning, it's _burning_."

"Mate, how long has it been since you last saw Katy?" Tom asked. He watched his manager rapidly fan his face with his hands.

"Not long enough apparently," Danny said, deadpan.

Jake made a face at his friends, as he stopped fanning. Tears spilled down his cheeks before he quickly reached into his eye and removed his contact. "Guess I'll just have to go half-blind," he muttered to himself. _How ironic. _He already felt like that's what they were doing: flying blind. It's how things essentially worked out the first time, too.

Maybe people could say he stalked Mr. Phillips, spent a lot of time trying to figure out his daily schedule to find the perfect time to try and pitch McFly to him. He didn't really know what he was doing at the time, just that he knew he had a great undiscovered band on his hands, and he would do whatever he could to get their foot in the door to the music industry.

The rules may have changed, but the game didn't.

Still, seeing McFly's pictures along the wall with some of the greatest in the business despite everything that happened could only be taken as a good sign. McFly had broken records with how quick they had sold out the Hard Rock show. It certainly did bring a lot of good press to Masquerade Records.

"Ok, ok," Jake said, carefully sliding his glasses and contacts case into his backpack. He clapped his hands together before smoothing down his tie for the umpteenth time. "Let's go, gentlemen. This is a big meeting. Very big. We've got to make this one count and it looks like we're doing it without Ronan until he flies in with everyone else."

A door opened and a woman in a sleeveless blouse and pencil skirt stepped out into the waiting area. "Mr. Phillips will only be a few more moments," she explained, "is there anything else we can help you with while you're waiting? I notice you have some water."

"Hel-_lo_," Danny said with a grin and wiggle of his eyebrows. He adjusted his collar and took a step towards them, but Jake grabbed onto his arm, pulling him back.

"Keep an eye on him," he said to Tom as he passed him. He snapped his fingers. "Dougie, too."

Tom turned his head to find his friend and spun in a circle before spotting Dougie by the large windows. He pressed his face up against the glass, looking left and right as he gazed out over the bustling city below. James abandoned his seat and stood beside Dougie, retrieving his phone from his pocket to take a picture of the view.

"Riiight," Tom agreed making a finger gun, nodding his head.

"We're doing ok, thank you," Jake said to the woman. God forbid anyone ask for any more water and they had to leave the meeting to go the bathroom. The woman gave a smile and a brief nod of her head before disappearing from the floor. Jake checked his watch again.

"Jake, Jake, Jake, you need to _relax_," Harry said, grabbing onto Jake's shoulders, starting to massage it. "Phillips was already impressed with us when we first tried to break America, putting our first CD here."

"Which was almost, _exactly_—" Jake twisted his watch towards him.

"Details," Harry said, waving his hand in the air. "The important thing is that we already had _two _albums out in the UK at the time, and we've put out even more since then. If he can't find anything he likes from all of that, well then, Mr. Phillips is—"

"A doodie head," Dougie called, turning away from the window

"Exactly." Jake chuckled, shaking his head back and forth. "And James, Matt, and Charlie have some great music in the works. We have fans here in America, Jake, they'll come out to show their support. No worries."

"Yeah, mate, we're just grateful you're giving us this second chance," Danny agreed. "And with some of our mates. It's going to be a good time, anyway."

Jake did have some reservation, but he couldn't help but admire the boys' enthusiasm. They were young, energetic, and did things the way they wanted it to be done. Sure, there was some stipulation here and there from the record labels – like the whole having to put out an album as McBusted – but all in all, their careers went in the direction _they _wanted. Plus, even Jake could tell just by being in a room with them for five minutes, that they were the type of people that would make what they wanted to happen, happen.

Still, they had to prove to Mr. Phillips that they were the type of musicians that could sell records.

"Jake."

"Tiffany."

"Right on time, what a surprise," Tiffany said, giving Jake a wide smile as she stepped out of a conference room. "No hang ups. No little accidents?"

"Not today," Jake replied, "thankfully."

"Well, then, hopefully everything goes your way in there, too," Tiffany replied, angling her head towards the closed conference room door. "Mr. Phillips is actually in a pretty good mood." She blinked, and then looked around the room. "There was supposed to be three bands here, last I checked."

"They got held up," Fletch explained, stepping away from the stairwell door. "We have another meeting scheduled in a couple of days. Everything's been all worked out."

Tiffany lifted her eyebrows. "Ok, then. Well, you can go in now. Good luck."

"All right, everyone, let's go. Mr. Phillips has already been waiting for us for the past couple of days." Waving his arms as if he was on the tarmac of an airport, Jake motioned for everyone to follow him. As one large pack, they followed along behind him until they all filed into the large conference room at the back of Masquerade Records.

Damon Phillips sat at the head of the table, hands folded neatly on the table in front of him, watching them all shuffle into the room, shaking hands and introducing themselves to the people at the table, and those projected on the monitor on the walls as they were patched through in a video call.

"Ok, just so everyone knows who they are," Jake said, standing next to Mr. Phillips near the head of the table, "we have James Bourne, Matt Willis, and Charlie Simpson of Busted." Each man nodded their head or waved when their names were called. "And then we have Tom Fletcher, Danny Jones, Harry Judd, and Dougie Poynter of McFly. They're excited to be working with Masquerade Records again."

"Very excited," Tom replied, his dimple appearing in his cheek as he smiled.

Jake lowered himself in his seat, being careful to make sure the cushion was situated directly beneath him. Mr. Phillips then introduced the marketing, radio, press, and video departments of Masquerade Records, and everyone was introduced to the other representatives of the other record companies.

"So, this is going to be one big party from what I understand," Mr. Phillips said, his booming voice instantly filling the room. Jake closed an eye, leaning away from the loud outburst. "An anniversary celebration of sorts. And you all know how much I like to party" He let out a deep barking laugh.

Snorts and scoffs were heard around the room. Fletch, who was sitting next to Jake, elbowed Matt in the side as he pressed his fist hard against his mouth to hold back his laughter. James's eyes were squeezed shut. Charlie pressed his lips together as he twisted his chair from side to side. Jake couldn't see past the three of them to gauge the other's reactions, but knowing the boys of McFly, they were trying just as hard not to react to the sound.

"What we want to do is," Jake said, getting to business, "is to use the Masquerade Bash, as I mentioned before, to showcase all three bands' talents. Everybody knows how McFly came to be because of Busted, whether they are fans of one band, or the other, or both. We can introduce new fans to each band with this tour. They have similar sounds, but their musical repertoire also shows just how diverse they are and what they can bring to the table with their music. And with Blazing Phoenix looking to put out a new record, and McFly proposing the idea of an Anthology Tour, now's the best time to get them all together to tour America."

"Basically," Fletch said, speaking up, to the confused looks on some faces, "McFly would be performing every song on every album they have released." He cleared his throat. "However, I wish for them to explain it to you further."

"Well," Tom's eyes widened slightly when everybody's attention turned towards him, "Danny and I were thinking that while we haven't put out new music in a while, we have already released an album in the states as a compilation of some of our greatest hits. We want to show them what music we have created since then."

"The idea is to play all of the songs on an album or two every night we have a show," Danny added, "ending with our most recent album on the last night." Excited murmurs went around the room. Mr. Phillips's eyebrows lifted as he slowly nodded. "Not only would it introduce us to new fans here, but whenever we travel back home, it'll be a treat for our fans there."

"And with Busted, fans have been asking for them for a reunion for ages," Fletch added, "I reckon the large gap in their repertoire is something that could be a cause of alarm for some, but I promise you, it's not. They've been working on some new music as well, that they're itching to get out there. Not only would this opportunity give James, Matt, and Charlie the chance to work on new music, but they can also show where they started as Busted, and where they are now through the tour."

"So how does this all work out with this third band?" Mr. Phillips asked.

"Well, we've been talking to our friends," James spoke up, "and now, we're thinking, if everything runs smoothly, of having them headline while in America and Australia." He cleared his throat and started to spin his water bottle between his hands. "McFly and us, Busted, would alternate the opening slot. While in Europe and the United Kingdom, McFly and Busted will co-headline and Blazing Phoenix would open."

"We know three bands is a lot," Charlie added, "but we were thinking we could have shorter sets for each the opening acts, and earlier start times. That way we could make sure people wouldn't be out so late, but still get the chance to see their favorite bands."

"People have been asking us to do something like this for a long time," Matt added. "Even more now after James and I were part of McBusted."

"Sounds like a party to me," Mr. Phillips said, adjusting the collar of his shirt. "And you all know that I like to party." He nudged Jake's arm. "Huh? You know. You know!" Jake pushed a smile to his face, fighting the urge to massage the area that Mr. Phillips just hit with his large hand. "Look, this all sounds good to me," he said. "I haven't forgotten how well received McFly were at the Hard Rock."

"Mr. Phillips, thank you," Jake said, grabbing his hand in between both of his. "You won't be disappointed. This will put Masquerade Records on the map."

"Hold on, hold on," Mr. Phillips said. He roughly pulled his hand out of Jake's grip. "I also haven't forgotten how close of a call that night was." He frowned. "Things weren't on the up and up that night. This is a big investment and you know how much I don't like losing money."

"With all due respect, mate," Danny spoke up, "you can't be hard pressed for money given all the renovations around this place."

"While that is all well and good," a voice, the publicity manager of East Coast Records, spoke up, their voice sounding tinny from the speakers of the tv monitor, "you also need to remember just how grueling it is to introduce not one band, but three to the music industry in America. Not only does Busted need to do the groundwork of things they haven't done since they had started their band, but they need to do the same kind of work back here in the UK."

"We're ready to do it," Charlie replied. "We're ready to put all of that hard work in to make this work."

"Yeah, definitely," Matt agreed. "Just as long as we're not marketed as a pop group. We never were strictly pop and it's not something we want to have to deal with again."

"I'm not going to lie, it's going to be hard," a radio representative of Masquerade Records explained. "Pop music isn't really what's popular in the US anymore: it's more of the indie sound despite rock still being the most popular genre here. Sub-genres, such as alternative and punk-rock aren't as popular anymore and R&B is making its way up there as well. Plus, you've got numbers and data for streams factoring into what makes a single or an album successful or a failure." The man put his hands up defensively. "I'm not saying this isn't impossible, just that it will be difficult."

"I can assure you that they've all talked hard and long about this," Jake said. "What's most important to them is that they put out music they like and are proud of. They're excited to get the chance to do this all together and do it in a way people haven't seen before."

"We can all come up with ideas on how this will work out," Fletch said, running his fingers through his hair, "but when it all comes down to it, this will get people's attention. This will show everyone their musicality and what music means to this lot. To them, it's not about record sales, or how many shows they can sell out, it's just about the music."

"You're right, however," the social media head explained, "it's about their online presence as well. Social media allows everyone to feel like they're one step closer to you guys. They're the ones constantly Tweeting, Instagramming, Facebooking about what their idols are doing. It's the fastest way to get the word out nowadays."

"We'll finalize the details later," Mr. Phillips said, abruptly getting to his feet, "but I like what I'm hearing. I'm also hearing my stomach is telling me that it's time for lunch." He rubbed his hands on his stomach before he offered his hand to Jake. "Jake, nice to see you again. We'll keep in touch." He nodded towards Fletch. "We'll keep in touch with all of you about further developments – we just need to speak to Blazing Phoenix, and we should be getting the ball rolling. Just make sure this is all planned out, written down and all that jazz for everyone to be on the same page." He snapped his fingers. "Electronically of course, printing things out costs time and money. And my time, which costs me my money."

On that note, he shuffled out of the room, effectively ending his time in the meeting.

"Is that normal?" Matt asked under his breath, watching the man leave. James just shrugged. Charlie's lips pulled downwards into a slight frown.

"You'll get used to it," Jake reassured them. "The important thing is, he's on board."

As more questions were thrown out by the other factions of the record labels, Jake slumped in his seat, feeling the energy suddenly drained from his body. If everything worked well, he knew that he'd have many more days feeling just like this. And he couldn't wait.


	6. Shut Up and Smile

**06: Shut Up and Smile**

Flipping the page of the magazine she was on her third re-read of, Katy sighed through her nose. She looked up from the glossy pages and did a quick scan of the bowling area of Rock-N-Bowl, her attention pulled by the sound of a bowling ball crashing into a set of pins, and the pins hitting the lane. Her backpack sat on the ground at the edge of the stool, her homework already completed.

Sitting up straight, she sighed as the muscles in her back was relieved from her hunched position. Katy rolled the sleeves to her navy work shirt up to her elbows and let out an exaggerated groan, tilting her head back as she did so.

"Why do we open so early?" she asked, speaking over the music that was pumped in through the speakers. "Everybody's in school right now. Or should be."

"Tell that to Mac."

Katy turned around on the stool she was sitting on, bracing her arms on the bar behind her. She gazed upon her co-worker Neil, who was sliding his thumb around his iPod, queueing up a music playlist. "No thanks," she replied, her nose wrinkling, "as much as it doesn't look it, I like my job. And I plan on keeping it for a while." It was just the slow parts of the day that was nearly unbearable to get through. It gave her plenty of time to get her homework done, and with all her different coworkers she could get opinions on her projects. It also meant times where they were staffed so little, that more jobs were put on the workers that were scheduled at certain times.

Reduced prices on games were a plus, though. When it was really dead in the middle of the day, they got the chance to brush up on their bowling skills themselves.

"No, I get it," Neil replied, lifting his head to look her in the eye. He used a hand to indicate the almost empty room. "Who doesn't want to be paid to basically do nothing all day? I'd go crazy if Mac didn't put me on music duty every once in a while."

It was one of the more coveted tasks at the bowling alley that everyone wanted. Not that there were a lot of tasks people fought over. Usually, everyone was trying to talk your way out of being on bathroom duty or sweeping up the spilled food from the arcade area. It was fun to put music playlists together, especially whenever they had themed nights. Everyone got the chance to be introduced to new music, hear songs they hadn't listened to for a long time, and it even helped find some common ground with patrons.

Katy also used it as an excuse to add some of McFly's hits occasionally, just to get more people to be exposed to how awesome the bands' music was. And, McFly playing shows at the bowling alley was kind of Rock-N-Bowl's claim to fame. They had even had a signed guitar sent to Rock-N-Bowl as a 'thank you' for giving them a venue to perform at. It was now hanging on the wall behind the Shoe Shack. She was proud to see it there, to know that as short lived as it was, the band had some great success.

As much as she had heard Tom and Danny go on and on about how the fun really was just getting the chance to play music with his friends, she had seen the hopeful looks on their faces whenever Jake had called them together for a meeting. How their optimism waned as they got bad news after bad news. Maybe their words held some merit, as she really saw them shine when they got up on stage. It seemed like they were just four friends hanging out, and everyone else in the audience was lucky enough to get the chance to witness it.

It was really seeing their quick rise of success that had put Katy on the path to her interest in fashion. To get the chance to witness the backstage hustle and bustle, with women rushing around with combs and bottles of hairspray, the make-up artists grabbing everyone within reach and forcing them into a chair, and the stylists pushing around racks of clothes all to make everyone look good for soundbites for interviews, the wall of press that wanted to cover the big news of the band that sold out the hard rock faster than anyone else had before.

She even got a few tips in how to do her hair and apply make-up, even though Jake thought she was too young to really start wearing it. She hoped that was the reason why, anyway, and not what she was thinking: that it was weird that she had any interest in it. Because she felt weird for her interest in it, at the time. She was the tomboy. The kid the boys chose first for kick ball as often as they would pick on her. Those rare times she did dress up for school the comments ("_Katy_? Wearing a _dress_?", "She actually looks like a girl for once!") made her feel even more weird.

Katy had avoided dressing up and makeup for a while. At least, wearing it out in public. She had wedeled some information out of Ashley and her friends resulting in the girls giving her a make-up basket for her thirteenth birthday. Even Jake had surprised her with some knowledge on the subject as he helped her get eyeliner out of her eye, or spilled eyeshadow out of her clothes. Between watching make-up tutorials online and getting Ashley's help on how to have her make-up compliment her clothes, what types of clothes she preferred, and what colors looked best on her, she had really grown into herself.

"I mean, there's only so many times I can reorganize all of the shoes," Katy said, waving her hand to indicate the shelves behind them. "Or check for gum under the tables when _no one is here._" She threw her hands into the air. "Like, I swear, if I go check on that group one more time, they might roll _me _down the lane."

Neil laughed, setting his iPod in the stereo dock. "Lacey still holds the record for sock sliding," he reminded her. "It might give you a good excuse to give her a run for her money."

"Hey!" Katy and Neil turned their heads towards the ends of the lane to watch a man making his way over to them. "You two!"

Katy sucked in a breath of air through her nose and turned fully to face the man, a bright, over the top, smile on her face. "How may I help you?" she asked, clasping her hands together on the counter.

"Our ball got stuck in the lane again," the man said, talking over the end of her sentence. "And my kid was trying to play a game in the arcade, and it ate her tokens. The game is broken."

"Was it the one with the paper taped over the coin slot?" Neil asked, getting to his feet.

"Yeah," the man replied. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "It was in the way when we were trying to play the game."

Katy pressed her lips together and exchanged a glance with Neil. Their silence was filled by the sudden burst of music from the stereo system. "Sir, that was put there to discourage patrons from using the game," Neil explained. "We are aware that game is currently out of order."

"Well there should be a sign!" the man insisted.

"Sir, that was the sign you removed from the coin slot," Neil commented with a heavy sigh. "I'll go print out another one." He pushed open the sectioned railing, swinging door to step out onto the main floor. "You mind getting the ball stuck in the lane, Katy?"

"No problem," Katy replied, following him out the door. "Sarah should be coming for her shift at any minute. If she arrives for her shift before he gets back, Mack has her on cleaning the tables and he wants it all done before the evening groups start coming in."

"How many reservations do we have?" Neil asked, a pained expression coming to his face.

"Luckily for us," Katy said, carefully closing the door back in its position. She had pinched her fingers amount of times in her haste to leave the area. "Not that many. But you never know how many people suddenly decide it's a good idea to go bowling." She shrugged before motioning for the man to lead her towards his lane.

The second Katy stepped into the area, she wished she hadn't taken on the task of being the one to retrieve the stuck bowling ball. One bowling ball wasn't stuck in the lane, but three were. She quickly surmised it was due to trying to move the first bowling ball that had gotten stuck in the gutter. Popcorn littered the floor, crushed into the carpet of the sitting area by the younger kids that were arguing with each other over the stuffed animal that had been won in a claw machine. Straw wrappers were crumpled up on the counter of the machine used to input nicknames into the game, stuck to it with drying soda. Crunched up napkins, stained with streaks of ketchup lay abandoned everywhere.

And this wasn't the worst mess she had ever seen while working at Rock-N-Bowl. But for a group in near the middle of the day? It wasn't something she expected to see.

"And this area is really sticky, too," the man said, indicating the approach.

Katy sighed, reaching up a hand to scratch at the back of her head. "No problem," she said, surveying the damage. Luck certainly was not on her side in this moment. She quickly figured out a plan of attack. "Let's just get the approach cleaned up first, and then I can get the bowling balls moving so you can continue your games."

"No, we want to keep playing," the man complained, waving his arms towards the lane. "That's why I came to get you. We're not done, yet."

"All right," Katy plastered a smile on her face once more, even giving a double thumbs up. "I'll see what I can do." She had barely stepped out towards the lane, when she felt the soles of her tennis shoes start to stick to the flooring.

Pressing her lips together, she stepped out onto the lane, making sure to keep to the outer edges of the lane. She had learned pretty quickly where the oil that kept the surface of the lanes in top condition for as long as possible. It wasn't uncommon to welcome the new hires to the Rock-N-Bowl team to walk out onto the lanes to retrieve a stuck ball without indicating where the oil was situated, just waiting for them to fall. And she had fallen hard. Bumps and bruises were a normal occurrence in her life, but that was a different kind of fall.

"I should have warned you about that," Jake had said to her between fits of laughter. His face had turned bright red, and he barely managed to gasp in a breath of air before he started laughing again. "I am so sorry."

"Yeah," Ashely had agreed when Katy had regaled her with the story, "the same thing happened to me after I was hired." Her lips parted into a smile. "At least you didn't wear heels on your first day."

That was a little bit of comfort.

Still, the memory played out in her head as she marched across the lanes to retrieve the bowling balls, carefully as she could. Upon retrieving the bowling balls and thanking God that she didn't fall in front of this group, she then moved on to cleaning up the area. Starting with a quick pass with a Swiffer and using disinfectant to clean around the family who seemed to make more mess as she cleaned up. It was only when she came by with the vacuum cleaner, making a point to bump into the shoes of the family ("Oh, I am so sorry, I'll get out of your way," "Please, pardon me, I will be just a moment") did they seem to get the point and give her space to clean properly.

"Hey," Sarah had greeted her Katy with a nod as she paused in wiping down a section of seats. She shook her head at the family that continued to bowl. "The after-school crowd will be coming in soon. Better get prepared."

"You see me with the vacuum, right?" Katy asked, indicating the machine she was pushing with her hand. Sarah chuckled. "I think I'm already prepared. How were your classes today?"

Sarah rolled her eyes. "I'm still mourning the end of the weekend," she said, dramatically, pulling a laugh from Katy.

"Tomorrow is Friday," Katy reminded her.

"All the more reason to be upset that it's not the weekend," Sarah insisted, widening her eyes. "Because _today _is not Friday." She laughed along with Katy. "At least you're not closing tonight. You got any plans?"

"Just dinner with Jake," Katy replied with a shrug. "I'm more looking forward to eating at the moment." She wasn't exactly lying, she was starving, and thinking of the many great restaurants in New York made her saliva glands work in over time. And over the years, due to his line of work, Jake had plenty of meetings in plenty of eating establishments around the city. But she was equally as excited to see her friends. "Some friends are visiting, but they've been doing a lot, and I think they'll be too tired to do anything tonight."

Katy never thought people like Tom, Danny, Dougie, and Harry would ever want to try and keep in touch with someone like her. Someone so…plain. But their names would appear on her cell phone occasionally. It was still strange, and it still made her heart pump a little (especially in Danny's case), but nice. She could commiserate and laugh over the phone with them about Jake all the time. Occasionally, if any of them would come to New York on their own on vacation (or "on holiday" as they put it), she would try and find time to go with Jake to meet up with them. It was nice to be remembered.

The Jacksons on the other hand, she saw more often, but months still went by between visits. Travelling back and forth between the United States and Australia every six months, and sometimes even longer, made for gaps between communication. They, on the other hand, did spend more time in New York than McFly did. As a group or maybe a few at a time. Following them on social media, and occasional video chats squeezed into busy schedules were nothing compared to seeing them in person.

"Sounds fun," Sarah said, stepping past her.

"Tell me how the rest of the night goes," Katy said, pushing the vacuum in front of her. A grunt expelled from her when the electrical cord pulled taut, and she stopped moving. Looking back over her shoulder, she found that it had looped around one of the chairs, catching on itself. When she tried to step forward, she didn't move far. Instead, she stumbled backwards a few steps as the cord slackened and she slammed down into the seat.

"I will," Sarah laughed, reaching out a hand to haul Katy to her feet. "I'll have plenty of stories for you."

Katy put the vacuum back up in the supply closet and took her place beside Neil at the shoe rental area once again. They talked around more patrons coming up to them, talking around each group and during each pause of the music. There was only so many times she could talk about, or argue with someone about, the proper shoe size needed and the price for the rentals without exchanging eye rolls with Neil or whomever she was assigned to the spot with.

A crush of patrons steadily came into the building, the sound of bowling balls hitting the lanes, the sound of the pin setting machine, and talking slowly grew as time passed and more patrons came and went as the afternoon went on into the evening. During one break, Katy sat perched on her stool and reached down to pull her backpack into her lap, reaching for her water bottle. After taking a long sip of water, she set it back into her back, where the sudden added weight caused her to drop her backpack. It tilted as the bag fell, spilling the contents everywhere.

"Oh, no," she groaned. Dropping to the ground, she scrambled to grab her lipsticks, eye liners, candy bars, sunglasses, schoolbooks, and travel hair straightener. "Shoot."

"All right?"

Katy looked up at the boy that leaned over the counter, a small frown on his face. He pressed his forearms to the counter, clasping his hands together, blue eyes filled with concern.

"Yeah, um, just clumsy, I guess," Katy replied. She brushed off her knees, moving into a squat. "I'll be with you in one moment, sir."

The boy chuckled, and Katy felt her cheeks burn. He smiled, and she spotted a set of dimples in his cheeks. He shifted his blue eyes towards her. "Sir?" he repeated. "I mean, lots of people say I look like my dad now, but I don't think I do." His accent reached her ears, and Katy stopped what she was doing to look at him a second time. She spotted the slight indent of dimples in his cheeks. Dimples that deepened as his smile widened. "Hi, Katy."

"Sydney?" she asked, jumping to her feet. Settling back, Sydney briefly nodded his head. "I didn't even recognize you."

Sydney Jackson's eyebrows lowered, and he gave her a look that was half amusement and half doubt. "You really didn't recognize me?"

"You've grown up," Katy said with a shrug, lifting her backpack from the floor. "And your voice got deeper."

"Puberty," Sydney said with a shrug.

"You look great." Sydney's lips parted into a lazy, unabashed smile. "I didn't think you guys were going to get here until later." Katy started looking around the space for his brothers and sisters. "Are you all here?" She didn't even need to look that hard, spotting the four boys all with black hair and blue eyes, the very same features that Sydney had, clustered around an arcade game.

Sydney shrugged. "Flight landed a few hours ago," he replied, "we're trying to burn our energy. Dad is meeting Jake and Fletch, and we got bored." He gave her a toothy smile. "We thought we could bowl a few and then head back. Reckon dad doesn't like us in the suite when we're bored."

"I know," Katy said with a laugh. "You can't really blame him, can you? Not after, what was it, the Marriott Open indoor golf tournament?" Sydney just smiled as he started to rock back and forth on his heels. If there was one thing she could look forward to with the Jacksons around, it was some non-stop fun. Add that in with McFly and Busted, and things were bound to get crazy.

And Katy couldn't wait.

* * *

**A/N: **Hope you all are doing well with everything going on lately. I've gotten motivation to continue writing this, so here's the next chapter, and you get a little bit more into how Katy has changed over the years. Thanks for taking the time to read this.

-Rhuben


	7. So Little Time

**07: So Little Time**

Jake had never really been excited to put on a pair of bowling shoes. Not after how long he had worked at Rock-N-Bowl over the years. Yet he still found himself heading over as soon as his workday had ended. As if he his work ever ended.

If there was one thing he had seen change over the years, it was how easy it was to keep your work with you at all times. E-mail accounts attached to phones. Every notification from every app pulsating a colorful light that caught the eye of every owner every two seconds. The ability to check up on work correspondences, reactions to social media posts, what the "competition" was doing was at his fingertips at every hour of the day. It wasn't so out of the ordinary for Jake and Ashley to spend a night winding down from a long day at work, cuddled up on the couch, each reaching for their phones or other devices during commercial breaks, or whenever their phone vibrated. Ashley even more with her position as VP of the public relations company.

As frustrating as he found it at times – to have his mind wander to that anticipated e-mail response, to his inbox filled with proposals from those reaching out to him – he was just as attached to his phone as she was. But now, it was sitting securely in his pocket, only vibrating when the pounding music that was playing in the building was loud enough to be felt in his whole entire body.

Setting down his glass of beer onto the table he had coveted the moment he stepped into the loud entertainment center. Smacking his lips, he looked dragged his tongue over the foam that collected on his upper lip and reached for the plate of nachos that sat in the center of the table, quickly cooling.

"Hey," Katy said, slapping at his hand. "Don't take all the loaded ones." She scooped a chip out of the pile and popped it into her mouth. As she chewed, she indicated the plate with her index finger. "This side doesn't nearly have enough toppings."

"You could always make a complaint," Jake offered, handing her a napkin.

"You realize I still work here," Katy said with a laugh. She licked a glob of melted cheese off of her thumb. "I'm just saying, when I'm on the clock, no one complains about the nachos." She then pointed a finger at him. "And I hope you're not driving home by yourself, young man."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Jake said with a laugh. He looked out over the bowling lanes and angled his head to the side. "I think it's your turn, Katy." Katy looked over at the monitors hanging off the screen and her eyes lit up when she saw that her name (or rather her bowling nickname Kit-Kat) blinking.

"All right," Katy said, rubbing her hands together. "Let's see if I can make up for that one-three I missed." She made a show of flexing her fingers, stretching her arms in front of her and above her head as she went.

Jake chuckled, taking another chip from the plate of nachos as Ronan moved to sit down at their table. "Hate to say it," Jake said to his friend, "but I think these kids are going to give us a run for our money."

Ronan gave a half-smile as he started to stretch his left leg. "Sooner or later we weren't going to be able to keep up with them," he replied. His face pinched into a grimace and he pressed his knuckles into the muscle at the side. "Just didn't think it was going to be this quick. And we're not even old!"

"Speak for yourself," Jake said, angling his head towards Ronan's knee.

"You try having six kids, a daughter-in-law, and a granddaughter and not feel like you're falling apart," Ronan replied with a snort. "Although, with this group, I'm sure you'll feel like that in no time."

Jake nodded absentmindedly, looking out over the lanes. They were all here now. The three bands that would help him try and conquer the biggest feat he's ever attempted. Who had ever heard of three headlining bands all on one tour? They hadn't even officially announced everything they were planning, but still it felt like all eyes were on them.

He knew for sure he would have to keep his eyes on them. It was hard enough to wrangle McFly all into one space at a time, to get them to focus, to stop joking around long enough to answer people's questions. Even when it was their natural charm, wit, and ability to put each other down that made people like them. Still, it was his job to make sure their thoughts and ideas were heard, that they actually had a hand in doing what it was they wanted to do. Now with Busted and Blazing Phoenix attached to it? It was definitely going to be a wild ride.

Jake applauded, watching all but one pin on Katy's turn fall to the wooden floor. She spun on her heels, a bright smile on her face, to accept the high-fives and cheers that Patrick, Noah, and Sydney gave her. It was funny how, even after all these years the band knew how to split themselves up. The older group. The younger kids. The leaders. The songwriters. The bands. Everyone else. It wasn't long after Katy had clocked out and sat down to catch up with the Jacksons that McFly and Busted had showed up to spend the night playing a few games.

"How is that going, anyway?" Jake asked Ronan, his eyes still on Katy and her friends. "It's been, what, seven years now?" He turned to face Ronan. "Since you adopted the Jacksons?"

"Mmhm." Ronan nodded, slowly stretching out his leg. "Almost eight."

Jake settled forward, leaning against the table. He clutched his glass of beer and gently rocked it from side to side, watching the amber liquid swirl in a circle. People had often said that he and Ronan looked alike. Personally, he didn't see it. With how Ronan was more laid back, draped in his seat like the coat he had flung over the back of the seat as he joined the table, it was easy to tell the two men apart. Jake was more on top of things. He had to be. It was too easy for things to fall apart. Even now he knew he was chancing that his chair didn't give way underneath him, or he didn't break a toe by dropping his bowling ball on his foot.

"It's going really well. I think I lucked out in adopting them when they were not only already toilet trained but had a firm grasp of independence." Jake laughed. Luck had nothing to do with it. It had simply been done at the right time. "Not from each other, but in general. However, I swear, the older they get, the more they act like toddlers."

"And, let me guess, you love every minute of it?" Jake asked. Ronan just smiled. "Yeah, watching Katy grow up has been pretty awesome. But, it's so weird, too. Right?" Ronan gave him a curious look. "Like you can remember what they were like five years ago, ten years ago, and you never noticed them changing."

"Physically, sure," Ronan agreed. "I've noticed them change socially for the better, though." Jake hummed, nodding in agreement. "Therapy has really helped them out. There are some things they still avoid talking about, of course, but they've just opened up more in general."

"They seem to be so much happier," Jake said. He looked over at the lane McFly had taken over. Dougie was chancing his luck by sticking his head in the ball return, only to pull it away at the last second when a ball was spit out for the next turn. Riley had her bowling ball cradled in her arms, one hip popped out, as she chatted with Harry. Rhuben was laughing at Danny's attempts at a pirouette on the slick flooring.

"They are," Ronan agreed, "but like I said, they're basically toddlers. If they're not having a giggle-fest over here, they're practically killing each other over there. And that's without it being under the guise of trying to be my favorite kid."

"Oh, come on, you don't have a favorite kid," Jake protested with a laugh. "I mean, what?"

"Of course, I do," Ronan replied instantly, "it's whichever one isn't driving me crazy at the moment." Jake let out a loud laugh, lifting his glass to his lips. "I'm glad they're finally comfortable enough to enjoy life, but they are going to give me gray hair. I can just tell."

Swallowing his mouthful of beer, Jake nodded his head. He remembered when he had first met the Jacksons – 16-year-old twin girls Riley and Rhuben, 13-year-old twin boys Patrick and Noah, and eight-year-old Sydney were some of the most talented kids he had ever met. He had come across them trying to make it in America just like McFly was doing. Only, maybe, they were a bit further ahead. But they were so young. So impressionable. So _professional_. Always on time. Good work ethic. A great sense of sibling bonding. Never put a toe out of line. Almost eerily so.

At least not when their foster father, Robert, was around. They were like machines; they had a routine down pat. Always knew where each other was, what their responsibilities were. Even how to conduct themselves in meetings whenever Robert was too drunk, or too hungover to pull himself together to attend. They knew how to get their work done. They knew how to act like adults who had been in the industry for years.

When they could just be themselves, hanging out with Tom, Danny, Dougie, and Harry, they were completely different kids. Fun. Funny. Always up for mischief. And could talk their way out of it with a well-timed smile of innocence. Especially from young Sydney. His dimples could dazzle anyone into forgiving him for anything he did. The youngest in his family, in the whole entire group, it wasn't too surprising.

They had to grow up fast, learning how to traverse a life that asked so much from them in the form of their careers in music after the death of their biological parents, and their placement with their foster father. There had been a lot of outbursts. A lot of excuses. A lot of promises that Jake had witnessed firsthand from the Jacksons that had him worried for their wellbeing. When it had come to his attention the reasoning behind it all, the years of abuse they had been hiding, it had made him sick. Every encounter he had with them, with Robert as intense as he was at every moment, they were in the same room together, made a lot more sense in hindsight.

He had grown so attached to them over their time spent working to get their music out that he had considered adopting them. It didn't work out the way he had planned, but he knew things were better off this way. Five kids, six with their oldest brother in Australia, and Katy? All the while still traversing an industry as unpredictable as teenagers dealing with trauma could be. Often times he had wondered if he had made the right decision not going along with it, but seeing them now? Jake knew it was right.

"If Ronan hadn't adopted the Jacksons, would you have done it?" Katy had asked him once upon a time.

"Sure," Jake had replied without hesitation. He had made a joke about how his bad luck probably wouldn't have fared well for any of them, but he still stood by his words. Despite the guilt that reared its ugly head from time to time.

Katy had spread her arms out, using her hands to indicate herself as she had said, "I've lived with your bad luck all my life, and I'm still here in one piece. That's a win there, don't you think?"

"Well, you've done a great job with them," Jake said, setting his glass down once again. "They're really flourished with you. I'm glad they had you to look out for them." Just looking at them all talking, joking, laughing, and teasing each other, he wondered how they would have turned out if he had done it on his own. Or if it would just be another thing that he would have failed at.

The biggest change Jake could see between them all, physically, mentally, or emotionally, was Sydney. Not only was he taller, and of course his voice getting deeper, he had lost his baby fat, and his face had become more angular. He was certainly becoming a man, resembling his own father and any other male figure in his life. While still an open and happy young man (evident by his ever-present dimples), a lot of the energy, and shy energy, he had as a kid had mellowed out into the more chill and laid-back person he was today. He was even draped over the hard-plastic seat much like Ronan was now.

Patrick was a ball of energy as usual, trying to keep the game light by trying different styles of rolling the bowling ball down the lane. His hair was slicked upwards in its usual spiky style. And he was debuting the return of his lip piercings, and his single earring. Noah also had his lip piercings in but looked "cleaner" than his twin with his hair slicked back, wearing a simple grey t-shirt and dark wash jeans. Noah was still more quiet, more observant than Patrick, but could dish out a teasing comment or two, followed up with a smile, accepting the surprise that usually followed his comments. He was more the type to speak when he had something to say.

Of course, Riley and Rhuben stuck to their accent color for identification purposes. But they had both grown into confident young women. He wouldn't say their clothing style was more revealing but more relaxed. More into what fit their personal style compared to the long sleeves and long pants they usually wore growing up. If the attention wasn't on their music, they didn't want it on themselves personally, lest anyone find out the secret they had been trying to hide for years.

Jake couldn't help but smile. They really had grown to be a well put together family.

"How was the flight?" Jake asked.

"Well," Ronan said, his eyes widening slightly, "it was uneventful compared to the cart races they all decided to have in the terminal waiting for our flight." He made a face. "And I'm talking both luggage carts and security carts. I'm telling you; I don't know how they got out of the country."

"Between that and daring each other to try and take a full lap around the baggage claim track, I think you got off pretty lightly," Jake said.

"This is going to be crazy," Ronan said, his smile fading slightly. "I mean, a triple headlining tour. And Jacqui and Gen will be coming out soon, too."

Even Jake could understand Riley and Rhuben being tired of being around guys all the time, even with their growing interest in the opposite sex over the years. It would be nice for them to have some girl friends to blow off steam with. But it was the blow off steam part he was a little wary about. Whenever any member of this big friend group got bored, some extraordinary things seemed to happen. And not always in a good way. In the kind of way where it was better not to get too many answers.

"We can do it," Jake said. "No problem."

The two men sat in a comfortable silence for a moment. Ronan broke it with a clearing of his throat and asking, "Things with you and Ashley going ok?" Jake looked over at him. "You have any marriage plans coming soon? You've been together for a while."

"Yeah," Jake a greed. "We've just been really busy. Wanting to make sure we can get the most out of our careers." He tapped the side of his glass with his fingernails. "I was talking to Katy about this not too long ago. She was wondering when we were going to get married, too."

"And?"

"I do want to marry her," Jake said. "I am going to marry her one day. I just…" He trailed off the end of his sentence. He wanted to be worthy of being her husband. To feel like he could bring something to the marriage. That he wasn't just living off of the wealth she had established for herself. All of that and more? It was hard for him to ask for help sending Katy to school. He knew Ashley would agree to it in a heartbeat, but it still took a lot of him to ask. At the same time, he was so happy to know that Ashley had his back and was there for him no matter what. "It just needs to be perfect, I guess."

"With the luck the both of you share, I think any way you do It would be perfect," Ronan said.

"Yeah, maybe," Jake replied, simply. "It's just the not knowing that's hard. I know deep down she'll say 'yes', no matter what. But, there's still that small chance…" He shook his head from side to side, letting out a deep sigh. He was getting ahead of himself. Even with his bad luck, he always had a positive outlook on life. There was no point in turning back on that now. They had way too much ahead of them to already start thinking negatively before they even crossed the starting line. "I think it's my turn to bowl."

"Good luck," Ronan said.

"Thanks," Jake said, getting to his feet. "I'll try not to get my fingers stuck." He made his way over to the lane, waving away the jeers from the musicians as he picked up his black bowling ball. He shifted the weight from one hand to another before stepping up onto the wooden lane. He shook out his free hand and stared down the pins. He'd be lucky if he could even break 100 by the end of the game…especially after throwing a seven-ten split.

Of course.

"Ooh," Harry called from the next lane over, cupping a hand around his mouth, "bad luck, Jakey."

"Yeah, yeah," Jake said, putting his hands to his hips, "what else is new?" He smiled good naturedly and waited for his ball to return to him. He picked it up, slid his fingers into the holes, and proceeded to throw a gutter ball. More laughs. "Alright, alright, let me see _you _get it, Harry."

"Now, Jake, let's not get crazy here," Harry replied, putting his hands up defensively. "We're just playing a friendly game here."

Rolling his eyes, Jake moved to drop down into the empty seat beside Katy. The plastic seating creaked under his weight. He nudged Katy with his shoulder. "I'm surprised you're not turning this into a photo shoot; you're always glued to your phone."

"Bull shoot," Katy said with a roll of her eyes.

"No shoot," Jake shot back with a smile of his own. He quickly grabbed her phone from between them and snapped a picture, ignoring her noise of frustration. He didn't give her time to perfect a better pose). "Here. Post that. You look fine."

"Ehhh, it's ok," Katy said, taking a better look at the picture on her camera roll. She slid up next to him and held her phone up in front of their faces. "Smile!" Jake briefly rolled his eyes before giving the camera a bright smile. The shutter clicked, and Katy moved back to her end of the couch. "Can I share that online?"

"Go ahead." Jake waved his hand in the air. "I just apologize in advanced for ruining your cred with my ugly mug."

"Nah," Katy said with a laugh, "all my friends think you're a fox. And no one says 'cred' anymore. Get with the times."

Jake chuckled. He had learned that it wasn't easy to keep up with the times. Not anymore. Things were always just changing too quickly.

* * *

**A/N: **So, like usually happens, with McFly releasing _Happiness_ and new music/content coming from them again (I am so excited to see what else they have in store for this new album), I've got some inspiration to get this updated. Thanks for your patience and for taking the time to check this out.

-Rhuben


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